


Granted

by caitastrophe8499



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-04-22 15:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitastrophe8499/pseuds/caitastrophe8499
Summary: Sara Lance works for a nonprofit foundation granting wishes to terminal children. She arranges meetings with movie stars, vacation trips, and once in a lifetime opportunities.But when one girl wants to meet a villain, Sara draws the short straw.(Due to the nature of Sara's work, there are several potentially disturbing scenes.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Per usual, I own nothing. This was all inspired by a text post from Tumblr/Pinterest.

Sara Lance took her usual seat in the corner of the bar, ignoring the glares from the bartender as she yet again ordered only a water. She got comfortable, papers prepared, photos within easy reach, and cell phone out, though she doubted she’d need any of it today.

She hadn’t for the past two weeks, so why would today be any different?

Sara was a liaison from the Wishes Granted Foundation. They tried to give sick or terminal children time with their idols, wondrous opportunities, or family trips that they never would have been able to do on their own. It was a great program and Sara believed in in wholeheartedly. So far, she’d helped a child swim with the dolphins and another see the Northern Lights. She was still new, but Sara loved her job.

And then the most recent request came in. A little girl had requested a meeting with her idol. But it wasn’t an athlete, or an actor, or a hero from Central City.

It was a villain.

Not just any villain. Captain Cold, to be precise. Ice King of Central City, mastermind behind the Douglas Diamond Heist and the Rockwell Robbery. He was a criminal, sure and certain.

And this little girl adored him.

Had it been someone with a more violent record, it would have been tossed out immediately, but Cold had a reputation for having a moral code. He disabled cops if they got in his way and any of his crew members who refused to toe the line always showed up in the morgue with blue skin, but he never hurt children or innocent bystanders. Not once. Not ever.

Sara, with her background, had volunteered for this assignment. Now, she was out to try and arrange a meeting with Central City PD’s number one thief. He’d made a lot of effort to hide his comings and goings, but Sara knew that the Saints and Sinners bar downtown was a veritable hub of criminal activity. Either Cold himself would come, or she’d find someone who knew how to contact him. But two weeks of questioning every person who stepped through that door had left her with nothing but several threats and, slightly more discomforting, several phone numbers.

“Back again?”

Sara turned in her seat to smile up at the large, angry man by her shoulder. “Yup.”

Heat Wave took a seat across from her. They’d seen another a couple of times this week, but aside from Sara asking about Cold and Heat Wave laughing in her face, they hadn’t really spoken until the day before.

Sara had been asking her usual questions of a new patron, Mirror Master, when he decided that he didn’t care for her interrogation. Mirror grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back before leaning in to deliver what would have surely been a threat. Sara threw her head back and broke his nose before calmly repeating her question. Mirror was unable to answer, but as she turned, she saw Heat Wave standing behind her, his hand on his gun like he’d been about to help.

He hadn’t offered to buy her a drink or anything. Instead, he just sat down at her table and pushed a glass across the top. They talked about Mirror Master and she explained how she’d taken a self-defense class. Not the truth, but enough so that it satisfied him.

Today, it seemed that their camaraderie had been extended.

“You’re still looking for Cold,” Heat Wave said. It wasn’t a question, but Sara nodded anyway. “Why?”

“I need his help.”

Heatwave snorted, “That ain’t exactly Cold’s MO.”

“It’s important.”

“Then you should definitely be looking for someone else,” Heat Wave told her. “Cold’s a criminal, Blondie. You don’t want to know what he’s done.”

“What he’s done doesn’t bug me,” Sara retorted. “It’s what he’s going to do.”

Heat Wave shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He got to his feet. “Cold’s an asshole, but he’s my friend. Just make sure you don’t get him killed.”

“So will you help me find him?”

He chuckled, “I passed along the message. He should be here in a minute.” He got up and went back to the bar as Sara’s head wrenched towards the door.

The door creaked open, casting a bright light into the dimly lit bar, and Sara squinted at the person who entered.

It was Captain Cold.

Her first thought was that he was taller than she thought he’d be.

Second, he was handsome as hell. The iconic dark blue coat brought out the blue in his eyes, while simultaneously making his fair skin seem lighter. His hair was kept cut close, dark with streaks of silver. The tight pants highlighted his long legs and other assets, and the boots were worn but functional. The cold gun he used in his heists was holstered on his leg, and she could see the constant gloves and goggles struggling to be freed from his pocket. Mouth drawn down in his perpetual frown, his eyes darted around the bar, exchanging a nod with Heat Wave, passing over her briefly before he went to the bartender.

Sara watched as Cold ordered a drink. The bartender procured it almost out of thin air, as if he’d been waiting for the captain to arrive. She sat still as Cold turned and fixed her with those icy eyes of his.

He sauntered over, taking a seat across from her and draping himself over the booth. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he took in a deep breath.

“Usually, people who are looking for me are angry men in uniforms.” The low, drawling tone was almost comical, but Sara didn’t feel like laughing. Instead, she shivered slightly in her seat, not realizing there were people on this planet who sounded like  _ that _ . “Are you part of some new and inclusive program?”

“No,” Sara said. “I work for the Wishes Granted Foundation and-”

“Why have you been looking for me?” he cut in, disinterest apparent on his face.

Sara’s jaw jumped. “Like I was saying, I work for the Wishes Granted Foundation, giving terminal kids opportunities. And one girl’s wish is to meet you.”

He scoffed, drinking his beer, a look of disdain on his face.

Sara rushed to explain her position, “If you agree, we’d set up a meeting without any police presence, so you wouldn’t be arrested or anything. I’m not associated with them, and I would keep your involvement secret. But just fifteen minutes with this girl could really mean the world to her.”

Cold was still just staring at her, and she could read the answer on his face before he opened up his mouth. “I don’t do charity work, blondie. I’m a criminal. Take your papers and your photos and get out of here.”

“Just hear me out.”

“No.” Captain Cold stood. “Leave and don’t come back.”

“But this girl-”

“I don’t care.”

He turned his back and Sara suddenly didn’t care how he looked or how he sounded, because she could  _ hate  _ this man for speaking like that about her kids. She got to her feet, grabbing the photo of the girl and planted herself in Cold’s way, her voice harsh and carrying.

“This little girl is dying. She’s got a month left, maybe less. Her dad died last year, she hasn’t been able to go to school in months, her friends are freaked out. And her last wish on this planet is, for some unknown reason, to meet you. She idolizes you, but you’re too much of an asshole to even grant her a meeting? She thinks you’re a genius, to get away with all your crimes, she’s got newspaper clippings of your work all over her room. She thinks you’re the greatest thing in the world, but she’s wrong.”

Sara shoved the photo into Cold’s hand, ignoring the way his eyes were narrowing and the attention they were getting from the other patrons. “She thinks you’re brave, but you’re a coward. You talk about being better than everybody else in this stupid city, more than the common criminal, but when it comes down to actually proving it, you’re just as selfish and afraid as everybody else.”

She turned away from him, putting all her things back in the folder, before grabbing it and glaring at him one last time. “I’m glad Lisa won’t get to meet you. Last thing she needs is another disappointment like-”

Without warning, without a word, Cold threw his drink on the ground, glass shattering across the dirty floor. He stalked over it, the crunch beneath his boots the only sound in the bar. He took her arm in his hand and dragged her toward the door. She could get free, but she decided to wait until they were outside - fewer witnesses. The last thing Sara saw from inside was the shrug of Heat Wave, which seemed to say, “I warned you.”

Cold towed her outside and around the side of the bar, out of sight of any of the doors or windows. He shoved her slightly as he let go, standing in the center of the alley so he blocked her escape.

Sara caught her balance and whirled to glare at him - if he was planning on killing her, he was in for one hell of a surprise - but drew up short at the expression on his face.

He was staring at her, the annoyance from inside the bar gone and replaced with a quiet interest.

“Look,” she started angrily, “you won’t go, I get it, but-”

“I’ll do it.”

“...what?”

“I’ll do it.” The voice was no longer so affected as it had been. It was quieter, though it still ran down her spine. “Her name’s Lisa?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“Cancer.”

He nodded once, then reached out. “You got a pen?”

Sara fumbled for one, her eyes on Cold as he stepped nearer, flipping the photo of Lisa over. “She’s just a kid, you won’t-”

“I don’t hurt kids,” he said firmly, meeting her gaze.

Sara nodded once, handing over the pen. He wrote something in small, neat penmanship, then handed it back.

Sara glanced down, seeing a phone number and a name.

“Send me her info. I’ll drop by at some point in the next week,” Cold said.

“Why?”

He smirked, “I’m feeling generous.”

“Cold-”

“Leonard.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name. Leonard.” He pointed at the paper and she saw that name written next to the number. “If you’ve got any other kids who want to meet a villain, you call me first. I’ll tell you who’s safe or not.”

“Why?” she asked again, but it was a very different question.

“Not all criminals are equal,” Cold -  _ Leonard  _ \- said.

“I know that,” Sara said, somewhere between confused, suspicious, and relieved. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked down at the photo in her hands. “Kids deserve better.”

Turning away, he was apparently about to end their conversation.

“Thank you,” Sara called after him.

He glanced back over his shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Sara. Sara Lance.”

“Well, Sara-Sara Lance,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, “my drink’s on you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per usual, I own nothing. This was all inspired by a text post from Tumblr/Pinterest.
> 
> I apologize for the shitty update lag. I'll be better, I promise.

It was amazing.

A week after her meeting with Leonard, Sara had gotten a phone call and gone to visit Lisa. Her mother, Diane, was almost crying when she said that Captain Cold had stopped by.

“He showed up just after dinner, knocked on our door as cool as could be,” Diane said, leading Sara upstairs to see Lisa. “Said he was here to meet his biggest fan. Lisa, oh, she just melted. He took pictures with her, he signed everything she handed him, and he brought her all these gifts. It was almost three hours before he left.” Diane exhaled shakily, still smiling. “I haven’t seen her that happy in months.”

Sara was surprised, but tried to hide it as they entered Lisa’s bedroom. A little girl with dark pigtails turned and smiled, “I met him!”

Sara smiled, though she felt her stomach drop slightly at the sunken cheeks and dark circles under her eyes. Time was running out.

“I heard,” Sara said, looking around the room. Posters lined the wall, all pictures of Captain Cold from various heists. Every single one of them was signed. There were several large, and clearly stolen, presents. Books and movies and games, all brand new, just for her.

“He was so nice, just like I thought he’d be,” Lisa gushed, holding a stuffed teddy bear that appeared to be wearing a miniature version of Cold’s goggles.

“I’m glad to hear it. He was very excited to meet you.”

Lisa grinned widely, clutching the bear closely. “Thank you.”

“I was glad to do it.”

She left Lisa’s room a few minutes later, after she’d been shown all of the selfies of Lisa and Leonard together. Sara’s particular favorite is the one where he’d given Lisa his cold gun and she aimed it at him. He was smiling in the pictures and it warmed Sara’s heart a little.

“Thank you,” Diane repeated as she showed Sara out. “I can’t tell you how much it meant to her.”

“Of course,” Sara said. “You’ll keep me posted about her condition?”

Diane nodded and hugged Sara tightly. “Thank you.”

As soon as she left, Sara took out her phone and texted the number Leonard had give her. She hadn’t said anything since she’d sent him Lisa’s details, unsure exactly how much this...partnership allowed, but she had to say something now.

_ I just saw Lisa. She’s thrilled. _

The response came almost instantly.  **She’s a good kid.**

_ Thank you. You went above and beyond. _

**I’m anything but common.**

She laughed at that, avoiding a couple walking past her on the street.  _ Point proven. _

**Got anything else for me?**

Sara considered her list and figured now was a good a time as any.  _ Not for you, but do you happen to know how to get in touch with Heat Wave? Little boy in a house fire lost his family, has third degree burns. Wants to meet him. You told me to check with you first. _

**Heat Wave is fine. Temper, but he’s okay with supervision. I can get a message to him. Hospital?**

_ Central City General. Room 408. Let me know when you’re going to be there. I have to sign off on visitors. _

The response was delayed, but worth the wait.  **We’ll be there Friday, 3 PM.**

_ See you there. _

**Until then, Sara-Sara.**

She smiled and went back to the office to fill out another ream of paperwork.

* * *

She should have known her second villain meeting wouldn’t go as smoothly. Leonard and Heat Wave, who’d shaken Sara’s hand and told her to call him Mick, had been signed in and went to visit Nick. From the laughter coming from the usually silent room, Sara figured it was going well.

Then Barry Allen and Detective West came in.

Sara jumped out of her seat and intercepted them. “Can I help you?”

West tried to push past her, “We got a tip.”

“What tip?” she pressed, keeping in front of him.

“Captain Cold and Heat Wave are here,” Allen said quietly, his eyes darting to the side. “Room 408.”

Sara laughed, “You’re mistaken. I know them, those are Nick’s uncles.”

“He doesn’t have any family,” West argued. “Those aren’t his uncles.”

Another peal of laughter echoed from room 408, drawing all of their attention. A nurse glanced over and smiled at Sara. “I haven’t heard that sound from him since he was brought in.”

Sara turned on West and Allen, seeing their hesitation and going for it. “Let them talk to him. Please.”

“They’re criminals,” West argued, though he sounded unsure.

“Not right now they aren’t.” She pointed to the waiting room around the corner. “Wait there and you’ll see them when they leave. Then you can arrest them. But not now.”

Allen seemed convinced and turned to go, but West settled against the wall, his arms crossed. “We’ll wait right here.”

“Fine,” she snapped. She crossed over to the other side of the nurse’s station to put some distance between them. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand the men inside were criminals, but they were doing something purely good right now. Why punish them for doing something right?

Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out, glancing at the text.

**Company?**

_ Cops. They’re waiting for you to come out. _

**Interesting. Would have expected them to barge in.**

_ I talked them out of it. _

**Aiding and abetting?**

_ Keeping my side of the bargain. _

**How about a distraction? In about five minutes. Something loud.**

Sara hesitated, but knew it was the only way to help these men who’d helped her and Nick. Who’d helped Lisa. Looking around the room, she say a food trolley of dinners for the patients in this ward.

_ Okay. _

**Glad to hear it. Five minutes. Loud.**

Sara wandered closer to the food trolley, careful not to look at West, Allen, or room 408. Watching the clock by the nurse’s station, she counted down the seconds, her palms starting to itch as it got closer. But this was her job - making these kids happy was her job, and if that meant aiding and abetting criminals…

Well, it wasn’t the worst thing she’d done.

The attendant dropping off the food to each of the rooms grabbed the trolley and started moving. Sara walked right in front of it, making sure it rolled over her foot and off balance, knocking everything to the ground with a huge clatter.

If she heard the sound of breaking glass from room 408, she pretended she didn’t. West and Allen got up to help her, just as she thought they would. By the time she was on her feet and the mess cleaned up, it was ten after five and the cops were getting anxious. Sara quickly reset her phone, erasing everything in it, as West gave her an irritated look.

“That’s it,” West muttered. “We’re going in. Barry.”

They ran to the door, Sara hot on their heels. As soon as she heard West’s aborted swear, she knew the criminals had gotten away. Pushing past Allen, she smiled.

Nick was sitting up in his bed, the grin on his face making the scars less noticeable. Heat Wave’s goggles were around his neck and he looked thrilled. Not even the shattered window seemed to faze him.

Her joy was diminished as West turned on her. “You’re coming down to the station with us, Ms. Lance.”

Muffling her sigh, she nodded, taking one last look at Nick’s smiling face.

Worth it.

* * *

Three hours later, Sara wasn’t feeling quite so helpful.

“Look, if you’re not going to charge me, I’m leaving.”

“You have Snart’s contact information,” West said, annoyance tinging his voice. “Set up a meeting with him.”

“I don’t have his info, as you know,” she snapped. “Seeing as how I let you go through my phone, without a warrant.”

“Because you deleted it!”

“Prove it.”

“Ms. Lance-”

She got to her feet. “Are you going to arrest me?”

West sighed, “No. Of course not.”

“Then goodnight, Detective.”

His voice was tight, “We'll be seeing you, Ms. Lance.”

Grabbing her purse and jacket, she left the precinct and walked outside. It was already dark, but she only lived a few blocks away and could use some peace and quiet after the three hours of questioning. She was just lucky she’d been able to purge her phone before they asked for it. Now she’d have to reenter every number she had, but it had been her only option at the time. Maybe if she developed a code for the villains…

So wrapped up in her thoughts, Sara wasn’t expecting an arm to lunge out from the darkness of an alley and pull her into the shadows. She hit the wall with a huff, her hand going to her back to grab the knife she had stashed there before she recognized the man in front of her.

“Leonard,” she breathed, irritated at the greeting. “What the hell?”

His eyes were shadowed, the usual smirk gone from his face. “What did you tell them?”

Bristling at his suggestion, she glared at him, “Nothing.” She was less than pleased to see that though his weapon was in the holster, his hand was hovering over it.

“Lance-”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” she snapped. Part of her wanted to reach for the blade at her back again, but she resisted. Leonard cast his head to the side, avoiding her eyes and Sara tried to rein in her temper. “I didn’t say anything to the cops. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you, Lance,” he said lowly. “I can’t afford to.”

She gritted her teeth. “Fine. Then look at the facts. If I had told them something, they wouldn’t have let me go, because it’s likely I would have warned you. And if they had any proof I was involved with you, they would have arrested me. But here I am.”

He sighed, running his hand over his head and pulling his hand away from the cold gun. “That’s good, then.” He honestly did sound relieved, despite his earlier demeanor.

“What’s going on?” she asked him quietly. “I can handle the cops, if that’s-”

“It’s not the cops I’m worried about.” He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes ghosting over the alley entrance. “Villains are a jumpy bunch. If you go dark, if they see you with cops too often, they may decide to cut their losses.”

“Well, I appreciate the warning, but I-”

“It’s not exactly a warning.”

She frowned up at him, confusion on her face.

He elaborated. “I’ve been...forcibly volunteered to be your villain liaison, as it were.”

Sara took a look at his expression, knowing quite intimately what those haunted eyes and resolute set of the jaw meant. “And your job is to silence me if I start to talk.”

He finally met her eyes and beneath the cold exterior, the Captain Cold facade she’d met at the bar, Sara could see the faint turmoil on his face, stifled now that she hadn’t given him a reason to hurt her. “Yes.”

It was a silly thing, to like the man who had openly admitted to threatening her life, but like Leonard she did. So she forced a smile on her face and cocked her brow, “Well, you’ll  _ try  _ to silence me.”

His eyes widened imperceptibly, then he smirked at her. “It would be interesting to see, but let’s hope it doesn't come to that.”

“Right.” Sara started walking again, unsurprised when Leonard fell into step beside her.

He was quiet for a moment, “The cops didn’t give you too hard of time, did they?”

Sara smiled, “Worried about me?” The irony of her statement didn’t escape either of them.

“Somehow I doubt my worry is necessary.”

“Is that a yes?”

He smiled briefly, looking down at her. “Let’s call it professional courtesy.”

“Then I’m professionally flattered. What else does villain liaison entail?”

“Keeping in very close contact.”

“How close?”

“Almost indecent.”

“What an imposition for you,” she deadpanned.

“I’m barely coping.”

“What else does a villain liaison do?”

He shrugged, “I’ll be your contact for the others. You want to check up on them you go through me. They want their details, they go through me. And if any of them decide to volunteer...”

“They go through you?”

He inclined his head.

“So you’re a middleman.” He didn’t disagree and Sara smiled slightly, “I don’t make enough to cut you in.”

He waved his hand, proper attitude almost restored, “Please, that would almost be like having a job, which I’m opposed to on principle.”

“I wouldn’t want you to ruin those principles of yours.” She eyed him speculatively. “So what do you get out of this arrangement, then?”

“Other than not being killed for giving you an in to the Dark Side? For now, let’s just say it’s...curiosity.”

“What it’s like to be on the law abiding side for once?”

“Hardly.” She chuckled and Leonard glanced down at her. “However, I do find my interest piqued at the idea of a woman who frequents criminal hideouts and takes down villains all while functioning as some sort of fairy godmother to children.”

“Ah,” she smirked and stopped, turning to face him, “do I present a puzzle to the great Captain Cold?”

His smile was too slow to be made out of humor. “Something like that.” He held her eyes for a moment too long to be solely curiosity, then glanced behind her. “This is where we part ways, Sara-Sara.”

“Just Sara is fine.” She looked behind her, not entirely shocked to see that they were outside her apartment building. “How’d you know where I live?”

He was already walking away, but turned to walk backwards, smirk in place. “Like I said, very close contact.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per usual, I own nothing. This was all inspired by a text post from Tumblr/Pinterest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many files in one place.”

Sara glanced sideways at her coworker Kendra, who was lounging against the file cabinet at Sara’s desk. Following Kendra’s gaze to the precarious stack of file folders and papers, Sara sighed. “I know.”

Reaching forward, Kendra flipped open the first one. “All these bad guy requests?”

Sara took a sip of her coffee, making a face when she realized it was bone cold. “You know how it is, one person sees it’s possible, then…”

“Everybody wants in,” Kendra finished, unsurprised. It seemed to go like that. Once one kid got to swim with the dolphins, everybody wanted to. Then someone met a movie star, so actors were the new thing. Now, it seemed to be supervillains, and as Sara was the only one willing to meet with them...

“This is what I get for volunteering,” Sara muttered. She started skimming through the files, jotting down names of the kids and their requests. Some were for Leonard and Mick, so she knew they were okay. A couple for Killer Frost, who’d been approved by Leonard a week ago. Some for Gypsy. Two for Mirror Master, who Leonard had crossed off. But one boy was requesting someone new; she’d have to check with Leonard, though her gut was already screaming no.

Sara’s phone buzzed, but she ignored it, midway through the pile and wanting to finish it. Kendra caught a file that started to slip, chuckling. “Man, you’ve got your work cut out for you, Villain-”

“Don’t say it,” Sara interrupted, exasperated.

Kendra laughed outright, “Fine. But it’s cute.”

“It’s stupid.” Standing, Sara glanced at the clock. “Six already?”

“Time flies.”

With a groan, she gathered up several files, putting them into her bag. “I’m just gonna work on this at home.”

“Take a day, work from home tomorrow,” Kendra suggested, helping Sara shove them into a bag meant for much lighter workloads.

“I can’t, I have a meet and greet tomorrow,” Sara sighed.

“Then Friday. I’ll let Hunter know, it’ll be fine.”

“He’ll complain.”

Kendra didn’t blink, “So?”

Smiling, Sara hauled the bag over her shoulder. “Thanks, Kendra.”

“What’re friends for?”

Sara opened her mouth to answer, but the trilling of her phone interrupted her. Hands full of files and her useless coffee cup, she couldn’t get to it. Kendra pulled it out of Sara’s purse and glanced at the display. “Your boyfriend.”

The name that showed up was just the symbol of a snowflake. Sara grinned at Kendra, juggling the phone until she could answer it and tuck it against her shoulder. “Hello?”

_ “Missed the check in," _   Leonard’s voice came through, low and unconcerned, despite his words.

“I’ve been a little busy.”

_ “So I gathered. All right. Talk to you tomorrow?” _

“Sure. Bye.”

_ “Bye.” _

Hanging up, Sara let the phone drop from her shoulder and land on her stack of files in her arms. Kendra was still watching her, shaking her head. “Whatever you two have going on, it’s just weird.”

Sara laughed, “Weird is about all I have time for.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Before she could even begin to leave, her phone buzzed again. Sara groaned and shuffled things around as she nodded at Kendra and headed towards the elevator. Balancing her files against the wall, she grabbed the phone and answered without really looking.

“I’m still fine,” she said, exasperated.

_ “Sara?” _

Realizing it wasn’t the crook, Sara straightened up. “Diane? Sorry, I...is everything okay?”

The muffled sob that came through the receiver wasn’t a new sound to Sara, though she’d hoped for more time.

“Oh,” Sara breathed, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the wall. “I’m so sorry.”

* * *

The sun was shining, which seemed unfair. A perfectly blue sky, no clouds in sight, the only thing to darken the view were the black coats and dresses. Sara stood in the cold afternoon air, her hands in the pockets of her black coat. Despite loving almost every aspect of her job, she hated this part more than anything.

Diane was sobbing into the arms of her brother, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed. Despite knowing this was coming, they all knew it was coming, it didn’t make it easier.

Without Lisa, the world already seemed a little darker.

Sara was too far away to hear the service, which was how she preferred it. She never knew if this was wrong- being here, with a family’s grief, when she wasn’t part of it. But she felt like she was part of it. She’d known Lisa, known her biggest dreams and fears and tried to help. Sara wanted (needed?) to say goodbye, too.

Didn’t mean it didn’t suck, though.

The crowd started to disperse, Diane the last one to leave. She looked around, but didn’t seem to actually see Sara. Maybe she wasn’t really seeing anything at all, not anymore. The black limos filled and exited the cemetery, and soon only Sara was left. She waited a couple more minutes before approaching the small - too small - plot.

Sara had seen them lowering the casket into the ground and wondered who had the horrible burden of building a casket that small. Those boxes weren’t meant to hold children. It was so small that only two pallbearers had to carry it, and only because it was awkwardly sized. It wasn’t heavy, but at the same time, it was crushing.

Lisa’s tombstone was small and simple, just her name and the dates that were too close together. Gifts were left around the headstone: toys, cards, flowers, balloons.

Sara placed a small photo of the first time she’d met Lisa among the others. She’d been so happy, even knowing what was coming. Sara admired her.

She was staring so hard at the headstone that she didn’t hear Leonard approaching until he spoke.

“When did it happen?”

She didn’t jump, too drained to muster the energy to be surprised that he was here. “Last Wednesday.”

“Was she in pain?”

Sara looked over at him. Gone was the blue coat, replaced instead with a long black dress coat. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but a black sweater over dark jeans. He didn’t look at her, but she saw the way his mouth seemed a little thinner and his eyes a little tighter. They’d spoken briefly over the past week, quick texts exchanged throughout the day and his almost sweet stalking of her at work when he thought she didn’t notice. But they hadn’t actually met in person since she’d been taken in for questioning.

“No. She didn’t feel anything those last couple days,” Sara murmured.

He ran a gloved hand over his mouth. “I should have gone to see her.”

Without thinking, reacting as she always had with those grieving, Sara took and squeezed Leonard’s hand. “She wasn’t there, not really. She declined too quickly and she was on all these machines, but it was too late. By the time she was stabilized, Lisa was already gone.”

He didn’t pull away, not immediately, but somehow his hand slipped out of hers a few moments later. He shook his head, “One hell of a job you’ve got, Sara-Sara Lance.”

She didn’t disagree. After another silent moment, she sighed. “I’m gonna head out.”

“How about a drink?” He was still staring at the plot, his hands in his pockets.

“On me?” Sara asked archly.

“If you’re offering.” Leonard turned, not quite smiling, but a little lighter.

She scoffed, having walked into that one. “Oh, all right.”

They returned to the Saints and Sinners, sequestering themselves in the corner with a couple of glasses and a bottle of scotch. It had been occupied by Mirror Master, but Leonard sent him scrambling with a single glare. It wasn’t until the second glass that they spoke of anything other than the drinks.

“Do you have many days like this?” Leonard asked.

Sara thought of the kids she’d met before Lisa. Not all of them were terminal, and not all of them were gone, but still. “Yeah.”

“So why do it?”

Sara tapped her phone, pulling up the photo of LIsa holding Leonard’s gun on him and the two of them smiling. Diane had sent it with a thank you note. “This is why.” She showed Leonard and he nodded, his eyes on the big grin of Lisa’s face.

“Is it worth it?”

Sara looked at the smile and remembered the tiny coffin. “Most days.” She shook her head slightly, downing her glass to get out of this funk. “How’d you know it was today?”

“I kept tabs on her.”

Sara wasn’t sure if she should be concerned or impressed. She settled for neither. “It was nice of you to come.”

“I don’t do nice.” He sat back in his chair.

Sara gave him a small smile. “Sure.” Deciding they had to change the topic if they didn’t want to kill this entire bottle, she asked, “So what made you get into a life of crime?”

“I hate working and I love money.” His answer was short, but his smirk made it clear he wasn’t opposed to conversation. “And your life of selflessness? I’m sure it wasn’t the pay that drew you.”

She snorted. “No. The pay’s awful. But it’s worth it.”

“You always wanted to work with sick kids?”

Sara smiled tightly. “Not exactly.”

He arched a brow, sipping his drink and waiting.

“More like...atoning.”

“Hmm.” He leaned forward, interest sparking in his eyes. “And what sort of sins are you atoning for, Sara-Sara?”

She rolled her eyes at the repetition, trying to deflect, but he wasn’t swayed. Sara filled up her glass again and met his gaze, “I was trained by the League of Assassins and I’m trying to repent for my three years of murdering for pay.”

His brow went up slightly, but that was the only reaction. When it was clear that was all he was getting, Leonard eventually sat back. “Fine. Add lying to your list.”

“Who said I was lying?”

He scoffed and changed the subject. “Had a call from Gypsy. She said she would be willing to donate some of her time, even if it’s just ferrying villains around.”

Sara perked up. “That could be really helpful. Get you guys in and out safer.”

He nodded, refilling her drink for her. “What about your new job title?”

She gaped. “How did you know about that?”

“Oh, I’ve got ears everywhere,  _ Villain Wrangler.” _

__

Sara rolled her eyes. “Great.”

__

He chuckled, a low, unfamiliar sound that sat in her chest. “You earned it.”

__

She shook her head, “Anyway. Tell Frost I appreciated her help with Lindsey.”

__

“I’ll pass it along. Anything new?”

__

She hesitated, but did her due diligence. “I got a new request from a kid named Jerome. He wants to meet the Trickster and-”

__

“No.” He spared a quick glance around to see that his raised voice hadn’t drawn anyone’s attention. “Not him.”

__

Unsurprised at his answer, she said, “Okay.”

__

Leonard stared at her for a moment. “That’s it?”

__

“That’s the only new one, so-”

__

“No,” he cut her off. “I meant, you aren’t going to argue?”

__

Sara scoffed, “The why is pretty obvious. And even if it wasn’t, I trust you.”

__

“You shouldn’t. I don’t trust you.”

__

Even as he said the words, Sara could see the faint frown that appeared between his eyes, the kind of frown that suggested that what had been said wasn’t entirely true, not anymore.

__

“I do,” she reiterated.

__

Leonard shook his head, disagreeing or disbelieving, she couldn’t tell. “You’re a strange breed, Lance.”

__

She smiled and tipped her glass towards him.

__


	4. Chapter 4

Sara would later blame it on the drink. She and Leonard had polished off the entire bottle as he regaled her with his more successful heists and she shared some of her funnier family memories. By the time they stood to leave, Sara was swaying - only slightly - and Leonard’s drawl had become even more sedate.

They stepped outside, the cold air sharpening Sara’s senses more than in the close atmosphere of the bar. Leonard wrapped his coat tighter around his shoulders. “I’ll walk you home,” he muttered.

Sara waved her hand, “It’s fine. It’s only four.” It was true. Though they’d spent several hours ensconced in their bottle, it was still light outside. “And I’m only a couple blocks from here.”

“I insist.”

She sighed, not entirely annoyed by his company. “Fine.”

Their walk was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. The temperature continued to drop as the sun set, Sara’s breath becoming visible. She kept closer to Leonard - to block the breeze, obviously - knocking his shoulder occasionally. Though she saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t say anything. So she inhaled the slightly spicy scent of his cologne and ducked her head against the wind.

By the time they reached her apartment, Sara’s nose had gone numb and her fingers were starting to ache. Rubbing her hands together, she turned to Leonard, “Thanks. I’ll see you around some time?”

He was still quite close, blocking the wind. Smiling, he said, “I’ll see you.”

Sara arched a brow. “Like how you camp out across the street from my building?”

His surprise was fleeting, but it was there. “Exactly like that.”

“You know,” she said, looking up at him, “we could meet for lunch or something. Criminals have to eat, right?”

Leonard’s smile grew. “We do, in fact.”

“Great. Then you can treat me to lunch on Monday.” She grinned.

Again, he was startled, but it passed, smothered under another indecent smirk. “It’s a date.”

“Perfect,” she said, turning, her blonde hair flipping over her shoulder. Stepping up to the door, she paused, noticing that it was unlocked and ajar.

“Lance?” Leonard asked, coming up behind her. He saw what she had and frowned, moving past her and into the hallway.

Simultaneously annoyed by his assumption of taking the lead and appreciating the unasked for assistance, Sara followed close on his heels. The three units downstairs were closed and undisturbed. But by now, she knew better than to assume this wasn’t about her.

Leonard headed up the stairs without any prompting from her and before they even reached the landing, Sara saw that her door was open and slid two blades from her belt. Leonard slipped in, drawing his cold gun silently, the faint whirr the only sound the two of them made.

Three steps in, the wide open door of her bedroom and bathroom made it clear that they were the only two people in the apartment. Sara sighed, looking around at the disaster that was her home. “What the hell...”

Leonard nudged a broken pot of irises with his boot, holstering his weapon. “Redecorating?” His eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of her blades, but he didn’t ask outright.

“Obviously,” she retorted, frowning. She put the knives away and closed the open refrigerator. Everything in there was probably already bad, but this would prevent the smell. The lack of tidiness told her it wasn’t the League - besides, Nyssa said she’d taken care of the target on Sara’s back. This was someone much sloppier and far more reckless.

There was nothing of real value in her house, but even so, the small amount of jewelry she owned was still in its place on her bathroom counter. As she came out, she saw Leonard had draped his coat over a righted chair, and pushed up the sleeves of his sweater. “Broom?” he asked.

There was no room for argument on his face and Sara appreciated the help. “Closet behind the door.”

She shed her own jacket, pulling out trash bags to collect the dirt and broken glass from the vase and shattered picture frames.

“Any idea who’d do this?” Leonard asked, neat piles forming from the broom.

She shrugged, blowing her hair out of her face. “No one I know personally, I don’t think. They’d be a bit more...subtle.”

He hummed, “Doesn’t seem like Mirror Master’s work, despite the obviousness. Can’t think of any other villains you’ve specifically upset recently.”

“Cops would hide behind a warrant,” she added.

“I’m assuming you don’t want to call them in, then.”

“And have them try to track you down again? No thanks.”

He eyed her speculatively for a moment, then turned back to his work. “So who does that leave?”

She shrugged again. “I’ve got a bit of a list, though nothing recent.”

“You got a habit for collecting enemies, Lance?”

Sara laughed, “Something like that.”

They worked quietly, Leonard asking for the dustpan to pick up what Sara had collected and he had swept up, but little conversation. Behind her couch, Sara could see the edge of a picture frame poking out from underneath and shoved her hand back to grab it.

“Not that I know everything you own,” Leonard started, tying off a trash bag of food from the fridge, “but I’m not seeing any signs of theft. Did you notice anything missing?”

“No,” she strained, her arm twisting painfully to reach the frame. “Nothing, as far as-dammit!” Sara swore, pulling her hand back, bright red blood pooling at the webbing between her thumb and finger. It wasn’t deep, but it bled freely, threatening to ruin her upholstery.

Leonard was there before she realized he’d moved, a clean paper towel pressing at the wound. He grumbled, “Nice work, Lance.”

She ignored him, trying to pull her hand away, but he held her wrist fast. The pressure hurt, but she knew better than to argue.

He pulled the towel away after a moment, the bleeding slowing, but not stopping. “Keep pressing on that,” he ordered, replacing the towel. “Sit down before you hurt yourself worse. I’ll take the trash out.”

Sara looked around at the rest of her apartment, everything cleaner, but still in disarray. “I’m not done.”

“We’re taking a break.”

“Leonard,” she started to argue, glaring up at him.

In her ire, she hadn’t noticed how close he was to her, her hand trapped between his. He looked down at her, seeming to crowd her space even as she felt too far away from him. The blue eyes seemed much bluer than she remembered them being and she had to work to breathe normally.

“Sara,” he said slowly, his voice wrapping around her proper name for the first time, “can you not behave for five minutes?”

Despite the palpitations in her chest, she retorted, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’d be more than happy to show you.”

She hated how that smirk made her a little breathless. She overcame it, and glanced away, breaking the tension that had been building. “Fine, I’ll stop for a bit.”

“Good. Sit. I’ll be right back.”

With a huff, she sat on the couch, holding the towel to her hand. Leonard eyed her, as if making sure she’d follow instructions, then grabbed the two large trash bags by the door.

“Out the side door and to the left,” Sara told him.

He nodded and closed the door behind him. As soon as he was out of sight, she bent down and carefully pulled out the picture frome from beneath her couch. It was a trifold frame, holding several pictures of important people in her life. She placed it on the coffee table, the glass sitting broken inside the frame. Pulling out the photos, she piled them next to the frame, making a note to toss it later.

Sara checked the bleeding again, idly wondering who had ransacked her apartment and what they’d been looking for. Whoever it was probably wasn’t done with her yet, especially seeing as how they didn’t seem to find whatever they were looking for.

Of course, they could have been looking for her.

She looked up as the door opened, seeing Leonard on the phone, mid-conversation. “-shake down the usuals. I’ll stay, so spread the word. She’s not running and she’s not talking.” A brief pause. “Something like that, yeah. Keep in touch. Bye, Mick.”

He shut and locked the door behind him, pocketing his phone. He eyed her, glancing down at the frame and obviously stifling a sigh. He didn’t comment, though.

“Sending Mick out to figure out who did it?” she asked.

Leonard sat on the couch next to her, “Partially. Also to make sure none of the villains think you’ve been spooked into going to the police.”

“And you’ll encourage that idea by staying here?”

He smiled, unrepentant for inviting himself over, “I am your liaison.” Leaning forward, he pushed the photos apart, glancing over the images. With a tap of his finger, he indicated one of the people in them. “Your sister?”

Sara nodded, the ache of having lost her still not faded. “Laurel.”

He passed over it, “And your father?” Another nod was all he needed. “And her?”

Sara looked at it, though she knew who he was talking about. “Nyssa.”

“A friend?”

“An ex.”

He didn’t seem fazed at all, “Friendly split?”

“Friendly enough. We had different priorities, but she did me a few huge favors. We’re still friends.” She waited for him to have an issue, but he simply examined the pictures a second time before sitting back and slinging his arms over the back of the couch. He stared at her for a long moment, then dropped her eyes to her hand.

“How does that look?”

She pulled the paper towels away, revealing the cut. It was fairly long and looked worse than it felt. Still, it might need additional attention. She leaned forward, but Leonard put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got it. Bathroom?”

“Under the sink.”

He disappeared for a moment, coming back with her first aid kit and something she’d forgotten she’d stored there. He held up the nasty looking dagger, his brow arched.

“Interesting thing to have in your bathroom.”

“Never know when assassins will strike,” she answered.

He placed the blade on the coffee table, opening up the first aid kit and turning on the couch to face her. “And assassins striking is a usual thing for you?”

“Not so much recently.” She held out her hand to him, letting him clean the cut and tape it closed. He didn’t react to her comment, but a thoughtful frown appeared between his eyes.

Leonard finished cleaning the cut, but refused to release her hand. One warm finger traced the lines of scars over the back of her hands and over her wrist. His voice was quiet and he didn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t know what to make of you, Lance.”

She shrugged, but made no move to pull her hand away. “I’m nothing special. Not really.”

He chuckled slightly, following the intersecting lines of scars all the way up to her shoulder. “I have to disagree. You’re a nonprofit helper of children and possibly some type of international assassin? Villain Wrangler and volunteer. You’re tough, but you’re young. You’re sad, but you smile. You take down Mirror Master, but you’re taken down by a photo frame. I can’t get a read on you and it’s...”

“Frustrating?” she supplied, with a half-smile..

“Fascinating.” He dropped his hand from her shoulder, but didn’t look away.

“You’re one to talk, crook.” She leaned forward, but made no move to touch him. When he did the touching, he seemed to be alright, but not so much when he was on the receiving end. That was some kind of unspoken line he had trouble crossing, so she wouldn’t push him. “Rob from the rich and help out the poor kids? You’re some kind of modern Robin Hood. The type of person that only exists in fairy tales.”

“This isn’t a fairy tale,” he reminded her.

She grinned, “I know. Makes it more fun.”

His eyes danced as he looked at her. “Not exactly the word I would choose.”

She leaned forward, licking her lips, “So, then…”

Leonard leaned forward, too, almost instinctively.

“Thai or Chinese?”

He laughed - not the usual chuckle or quiet huff of amusement but a genuine laugh. It faded the years on his face and lightened the load on his shoulders. Sitting back, he cleaned up the items from the first aid kit, “Thai. Chicken curry.”

She pulled out her phone and began to order. As it rang, she told Leonard, “Drinks are in the cabinet.” At least the bottles hadn’t been broken.

He got two bottles out of the cabinet as she ordered delivery, moving around her tiny kitchen with an ease he hadn’t rightfully earned yet. And yet…

Perhaps Leonard spending the night wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

* * *

Sara groaned as her phone went off, groping around on her nightstand for the incessant noise. She sat up, rubbing her eyes as she tried to read the name on the display.

_Carlos_.

She inhaled, feeling much more awake now. Carlos was one of her kids. And phone calls in the middle of the night were rarely good news. Sara blew out the breath slowly, then answered.

“ _Sara? I’m sorry for waking you. It’s Maricruz.”_ The voice on the other end of the line was familiar. Maricruz was younger than Sara, Carlos her only son. They were solidly lower class and the Wishes Granted Program had been the only way Carlos had been able to go to Disneyworld, his dream. Though he was technically released from the program, Sara had asked Maricruz to keep in touch. Carlos was a snarky, sarcastic little boy, and Sara had a great time with him. It had been tough to get through to him at first; even at this young of an age, Carlos hated people who showed him pity. It had taken some quick talking and sarcasm of her own to get Carlos to trust her. And now...

“How are you?” Sara asked, dreading the answer.

_“We’re in the hospital. I wouldn’t have bothered you at this hour, but-”_ Maricruz trailed off and then took in a shaky breath, clearly holding onto her composure, _“But Carlos wanted to see you and I’m not sure that he’ll...I don’t think this can wait. I know it’s late and you’re probably quite busy, but-”_

“Which hospital?” Sara cut in, getting up and pulling on a pair of jeans.

She ended the call after a few more details and threw on a sweatshirt. Tugging on her boots, she almost fell through her door, but caught herself on the frame.She pushed open the door, seeing Leonard on the couch, turned away from her. He had shed his boots and sweater, only a simple black t-shirt visible beneath the blanket she’d given him to use. He hadn’t listened when she insisted she didn’t need him to stay. He spewed some drabble about it being more about keeping up appearances, but she wasn’t certain she bought that.  
She didn’t need his help, but having him around certainly didn’t hurt. Besides, though she was close enough with Kendra, as close as coworkers tended to be, it seemed like a long time since Sara had anyone close enough to be a friend. She missed the company. And Leonard was certainly good company.

Sara tried to remain quiet and knew she was doing a damn good job. So she was surprised when she got to the counter and grabbed her keys to hear a voice from behind her.

“Sneaking out before breakfast, Lance? Say my company isn’t that bad.”

Sara turned, seeing Leonard pull his sweater on, covering up some lines of scars she hadn’t noticed earlier. She didn’t return the joking tone, too tired and already too down to keep up the act. “I have to go out for a bit. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He was still pulling on his shoes, ignoring the implied request that he stay here.

“Leonard,” she started.

He stood, grabbing his coat from the back of the couch. “I know, Lance.” His eyes were sympathetic to her frustration at being watched, yet resolute in following her. “But if the wrong person sees you running in the middle of the night, it’ll put you, me, Mick, and your kids in danger.”

They both knew he’d said the right words to make her give in.

“Fine,” she said bluntly, holding the door open.

He walked alongside her, his face showing no sign of annoyance at being woken up so early or at her less than pleasant attitude. Sara made no attempt to talk, never explained where they were going or what they were doing, but Leonard didn’t ask.

Half-expecting him to wait outside, she was mildly surprised when Leonard followed her right into the hospital, at her shoulder as she asked for directions to Carlos’s room, and kept pace as they found the elevator up to the seventh floor.

He didn’t speak as they ascending. There was nothing he could say, no question he couldn’t figure out the answer to. There were few reasons to go to the hospital in the middle of the night. He didn’t need more details from her, and he didn’t ask for them.

Sara was grateful for the silence, the cacophonous noises insider her own head made enough noise for the both of them. Though she liked all of her kids, she really loved Carlos. He was one of her first assignments. She’d really gotten to know him, more than she’d gotten to know most of her other kids. She loved this kid.

The doors opened and Sara stepped out automatically, familiar enough with the hospital not to need the signs to find Carlos’s room. She recognized Maricruz outside the door, talking quietly with another family member. She caught Sara’s gaze and excused herself, coming over.

“Sara, I’m so glad you came.”

“Of course,” Sara said, glancing into the room. “How’s he doing?”

Maricruz gave a weak laugh, “Complaining about the jello choices. They’re out of green.”

Sara smiled, taking another moment to steal herself.

“I’m sorry,” Maricruz said, seeing Leonard. “I’m being rude, I’m Maricruz.”

Leonard shook her hand. “No apologies necessary. I’m Leonard.” He glanced at Sara, then excused himself. She didn’t spare him much more than a nod, entering Carlos’s room.

He was half-asleep when she came in, the lights dim, but punctuated by the blinking red and green LEDs from the multiple machines. He was thinner than she remembered him being and she kicked herself for not visiting sooner.

“Hey, Fly Boy,” she said gently, taking a seat next to him.

Carlos’s eyes opened and he turned his head to face her, his face splitting into a grin despite the cracks in his lips. “Hey, Nerf-Herder. Came to see the finale?”

She couldn’t joke about that, though she admired him for being able to do so. “Anything I can get you?”

He pushed his dinner tray weakly, the cup of red jello untouched. “Some decent damn jello.”

“Mijo,” Marizruz scolded from the door.

“Sorry, Mom.” He was utterly unrepentant, but he watched his mom until she turned away, distracted by another doctor and closed the door behind her.

“You asked me to come. Here to leave me your massive fortune?”

He chuckled. “I asked you to come,” he agreed. “But not for me.”

Sara followed his gaze to his mother, dropping her voice. “You’re worried about her.”

“Obviously. I sure as hell-heck,” he corrected, “ain’t worried about me. Nothing can touch me anymore. But my mom…” He sighed. “I don’t know what she’s gonna do without me to fuss over.”

“So you want her to fuss over me?” Sara arched her brow.

Carlos laughed, a dry, raspy sound that didn’t incur any humor at all. “You don’t need fussing. You can handle this. But...can you just check in on her? Please? Take her out to coffee every once in a while?”

“Of course,” Sara promised, and meant it.

Carlos smiled at her, “You’re pretty cool, you know.”

“Not so bad yourself.”

He leaned back, grinning at the ceiling, “If I were a little older, I bet I would’ve broken your heart.”

Sara stood and leaned over him, “If you were a little older, I would’ve let you.” She kissed his cheek gently, pretending it wasn’t already shattering inside her chest.

“Watch out for my mom, okay? I’m gonna take the lead on this whole death thing, let you know how it goes.” He signed. “If only I had some-”

The door opened and Sara turned to see Leonard come in. Carlos frowned at him, “Who’re you?”

“Sara’s friend.” Leonard closed the door behind him, not glancing at her, but kept his eyes on Carlos.

“Huh,” Carlos said, unimpressed. “You her boyfriend or something?”

“Or something.”

Carlos narrowed his eyes at Leonard, disregarding the difference in age or health or height. “You better not break her heart or I’ll haunt your butt from here to heck.”

Leonard nearly smiled. “I believe that.”

“Besides,” the kid sat back in his bed, his face a little more drawn from the effort, “she’s probably too good for you.”

“She probably is,” Leonard agreed easily. “But how about a peace offering?” He held up two cups of green jello.

“What?” Carlos gasped, holding out his hands. “Where’d you get these?”

Leonard passed them over. “People need to watch their valuables better.”

Taking the cups, Carlos grinned at Leonard, his approval easily bought. “You’re alright. It’s cool if you’re her boyfriend.”

“Thanks,” Leonard said, no sign of condescension in his voice.

The door opened and a few doctors and nurses came in. Sara and Leonard slipped out as Carlos dug into the jello, ignoring the medical practitioners as they poked and prodded him.

Sara touched Maricruz’s arm, “Do you need some coffee?”

“You don’t have to stay, if you-”

“I’m not going anywhere. Coffee?”

“Please.”

“We’ll be right back.”

Sara and Leonard made their way down to the coffee station in the visitor’s room. There was no one here at this hour. Carlos’s room was an exception to visiting hours, as he didn’t have much time left. Sara passed Leonard a cup and he filled it from the battered pot.

Sara glanced at him. “Thanks. For the jello.”

He shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

“It was to him.” She made to pick up the coffees, but Leonard touched her shoulder to turn her towards him. She took a deep breath as the thief leaned down, looking at her face. There was nothing he could say that would make anything better. She knew it. He knew it.

So she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t speak. She was, however, startled when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

Surprise only held for a moment before she slid her hands around to his back, pressing her face into his chest. A few tears leaked out, though she didn’t make a sound. It wasn’t fair; Carlos wasn’t her child and if anyone needed consoling, it was Maricruz. But she was selfish, and took the comfort Leonard offered. His hand rubbed a circle into her back, but she felt the tension in his own shoulders. He wasn’t entirely at ease, though if it was due to the situation or to the contact, she wasn’t certain. The tears slowed and she inhaled, the warm scent of Leonard soothing compared to the too-sterile smell of the hospital. She didn’t want to let go.

Eventually she had to and he took the cue, stepping back from her. He passed her one of the coffees, taking the other two as they left the lounge.

They headed back to Carlos’s room, and Leonard spoke, the forced levity in his voice obvious to her. “So, is Carlos my competition?”

“It would be a tough competition,” Sara answered, doing her best to smile. “He was here first.”

“Criminal I may be, but I respect the sanctity of “Dibs.””

“Well, lucky for you, he never called it.”

Leonard gave her a small smile, and his mouth opened.

From down the hall, a heartbreaking, broken scream was heard and Sara saw Maricruz crumple.

The coffee hit the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing, per usual.
> 
> Since this one was a little late, I'll leave you with something a little longer and hopefully moderately satisfying. :)

When the alarm went off the next morning, it took Sara too many tries to get her eyes open. They hadn’t gotten back from the hospital until nearly four. Neither one of them said a word the entire way back, but Leonard had put his arm over her shoulders as they walked and never commented on her wet face. She had crashed as soon as she got home, Leonard doing the same on the couch. When she quickly exited her room to get to the bathroom, he was already up and moving in her kitchen.

The smell of coffee was nearly as helpful as the shower to wake her. So she dressed quickly, hung her damp towel next to the one Leonard must have used earlier this morning and stepped out, tying up her drying hair.

Leonard had pilfered through her kitchen and arranged a simple breakfast of eggs, toast, and coffee. It was all waiting on her table and Leonard was in a chair, half full cup already in his hand. He glanced up as she came over, the dark circles under his eyes matching hers.

“Thanks,” she muttered, taking the proffered cup.

After she’d pounded at least half of it, she put it down to rub her eyes. When she dropped her hands, Leonard was watching her.

“What?”

He shook his head slowly. “Wondering how many nights like that you’ve had.”

She thought about lying. Thought about making light of it. Instead, what came out was a tired, “Too many.”

And it was the truth. It seemed like nearly every week she lost a kid. It wasn’t quite so often as that, but sometimes, they’d come in groups, like now. And it hurt. Until last night, Sara had always handled it alone. Though handling might be a stretch. Most times, she’d drink herself into a stupor and pray the nightmares stayed at bay. But last night, she hadn’t needed the drink, and hadn’t had any nightmares. She was drained and hurting, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. She supposed most of that came from the feeling that she wasn’t entirely alone, not with Leonard draped on her couch outside her room.

Leonard nodded, then took a long sip of his coffee. Despite the whole situation, he looked comfortable sitting at her table, drinking out of her chipped mug as if he did this everyday. He placed his fork carefully off to the side of his empty plate. Then he steepled his fingers and eyed her. “Why?”

“I told you, I’m-”

“Atoning. Yes, you used that line earlier.” He dropped his gaze to the cutlery. “But I find it impossible to believe that anyone deserves a single night like that in their life, let alone as many as you seem to have had by choice.”

“Just because you think it’s impossible, doesn’t mean it is.” She got up and collected the plates, bringing them to her sink. Water sprayed the front of her shirt as she turned on the faucet too high. Shaking her head, she began cleaning them, ignoring the scrape of Leonard’s chair across the floor. She couldn’t ignore the sound of his boots on the linoleum as he approached her, stopping far too close. She turned to face him and he was only inches away, his eyes searching her face for some sort of explanation.

Funny, the one guy she’d told the complete truth to was the one guy who didn’t believe her.

“I may not be one, but I know some bad people, Lance. You don’t fit the profile.” He leaned forward, one arm on the counter behind her. Not boxing her in, not trying to scare her, just trying to get close.

She crossed her arms. “I’m a different breed of bad.” There was no arrogance in her voice. No challenge to be top dog. Just a single, disgusting truth.

“What breed is that?” he asked, his voice dropping to little more than a whisper.

She forced a smile. “You may be a crook, Snart. But, I’m a monster.”

“You really believe that?”

“I know it.”

Leonard’s lips twisted and he straightened. He rolled up his sleeves, not backing away from her. Sara kept her eyes on his face, though he had dropped his to his hands. “Conveniently, I happen to know a lot of people.”

In an uncharacteristic move, he grasped her wrist. Sara unfolded her arms and let him guide her hand to his forearm. For a moment, all she felt was warm skin covering toned muscle, his hand nearly dwarfing hers, but he ran the pads of her finger over a perfectly circular scar. She lowered her gaze to his skin, seeing that it was just one of several burn marks.

“I’ve seen real monsters,” he murmured. “And you, Sara-Sara Lance, are no monster.”

Sara glanced up at him, and had to drop her gaze immediately, because he was staring at her like no one had ever stared at her. Not Ollie, who stared at her in fear of committing to Laurel. Not Nyssa, who had stared at her because she was someone new and different. Leonard was staring at her and looking for nothing more than what Sara was. Good and bad, all wrapped up in scars.

Her fingers traced the other marks on his arm. His hand no longer led her, but he didn’t pull away.

“Your father?” she asked.

He nodded, watching her wander over his skin.

“I’m not a good person,” she told him, her words almost getting lost on the way to his ears.

“Neither am I. Does that make me a bad one?”

She almost smiled at his simple, clear-cut view of things, but the comfort his confidence was offering was too good to refuse. “No.”

The hand she wasn’t examining lifted her chin, and Sara automatically looked up. Leonard’s smirk was back in place and he murmured, “There you go.”

Almost everything in her was urging her to lean forward those last few inches and kiss him, and had it been anyone else, she would have. But she didn’t want to press the boundaries with him and touching, though he seemed to be more comfortable with her. She settled for interlacing his fingers with hers, keeping her eyes on him. “Thanks for being here, Leonard.”

His fingers barely brushed her face. “Spending time with you is worth it.”

“I’m dangerous.” She had to warn him. Even if he didn’t believe everything, he had to know - he had to understand, because if he didn’t know and he got hurt-

“I’m not exactly an altarboy myself.”

This wasn’t a joke. “Leonard-”

“Lance,” he interrupted, dropping the teasing tone. “I know what I’m doing. I know what you’re saying, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“Because you’re my liaison?” she asked quietly, meeting his eyes.

“No.”

Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers gently. His hand slid across her jaw and wove into her hair, holding her against him, not that she was going anywhere. She pressed into his lips, but tried to keep the distance between them, just in case he wasn’t-

He pulled their interlocked hands up behind his neck, depositing hers there before grabbing her hip with his now freed hand and pulling her closer. Taking the cue, Sara grabbed a fistful of his sweater, using it to gain some leverage. Hauling on the fabric, he was forced down to her level, providing her a whole new angle.

Leonard chuckled slightly, his lips parting, and oh god-

Sara didn’t know how long that kiss lasting, it melded into more and more. His fingers slid under the hem of her sweatshirt, never wandering far, but touching her skin all the same. She pressed her fingers down the collar of his shirt, feeling more scars, sure, but corded muscle, too. She was trapped between Leonard and the sink and didn’t really mind all that much, leaning into him. Sara could have kissed him all day and a large part of her truly wanted to.

But.

“Leonard,” she whispered, leaning back slightly.

He followed her, lips pressing into the skin at her neck, which was an entirely new and welcome sensation.

She pulled away from him, breath coming in short gasps. “I have to go to work.”

“You could call out,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

She laughed and freed herself from his grasp.

Leonard groaned, “And you think you’re so bad.”

She pulled on her shoes and grabbed her jacket. “Are you going to hang here all day?” she asked.

“I’ve got some errands to attend to. Stuff to grab if I’ll be here for a couple days. Loose lips to close.” He leaned against the counter, watching her pull up her hair. “But I believe we have a date.”

Sara glanced at him, a grin spreading across her face. It was insane to think that she had been a mess just hours ago. Now she had a date. Granted, it was with the man who was assigned to kill her should she go to the police. But still.

A thought struck her and she grabbed her keys, handing Leonard a copy of one. “Here.”

He grabbed the hand holding the key, eyeing her speculatively. “Aren’t you moving a little fast, giving me a key to your place after one night?”

She glanced at her door, wedged shut on the broken frame. “It’s hardly necessary for my door. But you’ll look strange picking the lock on the front door.”

“True.” He pressed a kiss to her wrist as he took the key with his other hand. Sara suppressed a shiver, nearly feeling her eyes dilate as he stared at her.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” she said quietly.

“Absolutely,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against her skin and down her spine.

If she didn’t go now, she might not leave this apartment ever again. So Sara pulled free, grabbing her purse and made it to her door before she looked back at the thief in her kitchen. He was still in place, arms crossed and smirk smoldering.

“See you soon, Sara-Sara.”

She shut the door a little too forcefully and tried to convince herself she didn’t hear his laughter chasing her down the stairs.

* * *

Sara showed Perry her ID as she swept through the lobby, the cold air following her well into the building. Perry was bundled up against the constant breeze, a knit cap pulled down over his ears, sitting just above his bushy eyebrows.

“Mornin’, Ms. Sara.”

“Morning, Perry. Keeping warm?”

He grunted, logging her name into the computer. “Sure. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Climbing the stairs, Sara shed her coat and scarf, the heater huffing its way through the stairwell and into the office buildings. Wishes Granted was just one set of offices in a fairly small building, but a lot of them were merely for remote purposes. At most, there were only ever about twenty people, and Sara was often the last one here at night. That’s the only reason she could get away with coming in a little late sometimes, though she still heard about it from Hunter.

Today, however, he greeted her without reprimand. “I heard about Carlos.”

Sara glanced at her boss, the slim Brit usually a thorn in her side, his meticulous practices both appreciated and loathed. Rip always looked like he’d slept in his clothes and this time of year he consistently wore a ratty duster. But he did his job well and the small company thrived under his leadership, even if his actual employees cringed at the micromanagement.

Still, even if he rubbed her the wrong way, Sara respected Rip. Especially times like now.

“Yeah,” she said, putting her purse down at her desk and booting up her computer. “Last night.”

“You were with him?”

“Maricruz called. I had to.”

He nodded. “If you need a day…”

“Thanks. But I think I’d rather stay busy.”

Rip put a hand on her shoulder, supportive. Sara smiled up at him briefly, remembering just where this company had started. With Rip’s own son, Jonah, and his wish to be a cowboy.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Rip said. Then he left swiftly, always uncomfortable with displays of affection.

Kendra, who would have loved to display tons of affection on Sara, had learned to hold back a little. She hugged Sara tightly around the shoulders, then dropped a massive cup of coffee on her desk.

“Rip and I will be gone after lunch, Sanjita’s request came through, so we’re heading over to run the details by them before the big day. Since it’s over by my neck of the woods, Rip said he’ll drop me off at home before he goes home. But if you need anything,” Kendra began, that phrase said far too often in their line of work.

“Thanks,” Sara responded, truthfully. She honestly appreciated Kendra, even if she didn’t take her up on most of her offers of help.

After that, the morning went by rather smoothly. Sara closed out Carlos’s file, rejected Jerome’s request and sent several back up options out to his dad, and followed up on some of the older files that were waiting on responses. Before she knew it, Kendra and Rip were heading  out for lunch and their meeting, and she glanced at her phone, wondering if Leonard had forgotten.

The main office line rang, and Sara grabbed the receiver. “Wishes Granted, this is Sara. How may I help you?”

“Ms. Sara. It’s Perry.”

Dropping her customer service voice, Sara relaxed, “Hey, Perry.”

“Got a guy down here, says he’s meeting you for lunch?” He sounded skeptical.

She grinned, grabbing her purse and coat. “Yeah, I’ll be right down.”

Sara locked up and hurried downstairs. Leonard was standing by Perry’s desk, his hands in his coat. He looked up as she opened the door, a small smile spreading across his face. Sara’s breath almost caught, but she managed to keep going. She walked up to him, tilting her head back with a smile. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he replied, the smile growing.

She stared at him for a long moment, then Perry cleared his throat. “You heading to lunch, then, Ms. Sara?”

“Yeah.” She looked away from Leonard with an effort, nodding at Perry. “I’ll be back in an hour. It’s all locked up.”

“Enjoy your lunch.”

“I will,” Sara answered. She looped her arm through Leonard’s and they stepped out onto the sidewalk. The sky had been clouded all day, though there didn’t appear to be any sign of rain.

“How has your day been?” Leonard asked, his tone teasing.

“Uneventful. You?”

“Uneventful?” he echoed, looking down at her. “Is that so?”

She grinned, “Where are we going to lunch?”

“A surprise.”

They chatted about her day until Leonard led them to a small restaurant. It was quiet, only one or two other patrons. A shorter, elderly woman working at the counter looked up as they came in. Her eyes lit up upon seeing Leonard and she came around the hostess stand, speaking quickly in a foreign language. Sara disengaged as the woman came barreling toward them. She hugged Leonard tightly, with none of the reservations Sara had upon meeting him.

Leonard responded to the lengthy tirade and hug with a faint smile and a pat on her back. He said something briefly in the same language, and the woman grinned, leading them to a small booth near the back.

There were no menus, but Leonard didn’t seem concerned. The woman said something else, then vanished into the back. Sara took her seat across from Leonard and arched a brow.

He took his time removing his coat and scarf, and Sara was tickled to see some faint color in his cheeks.

“I may have helped her out a little, when they were being shaken down for security,” Leonard admitted. “Kamila’s...grateful.”

Sara smiled at him. “That’s adorable. You’re her hero.”

Leonard rolled his eyes, but Kamila came back quickly and he smiled at her, affection toward other people something Sara hadn’t really seen on him. The creased face continued to smile, but turned towards Sara, speaking far too quickly for her to understand, even if she spoke the language.

Kamila didn’t wait for a response, but left two steaming cups in front of them, before vanishing again. Sara smelled the hot coffee and smiled. “She knows her customers.”

“You don’t exactly order with Kamila,” Leonard said. “She just decides what to give you.”

Sara smiled and sipped her coffee, trying to reconcile Captain Cold with her date. There were certainly elements of the criminal: the way he had his eyes to the doors, the weapons that were almost perfectly concealed beneath his sweater, the way he carried himself. But as Kamila came back with two steaming bowls, smiling up at Leonard as she placed them down, Sara was amazed at the complexity behind Leonard’s cold mask.

They ate quietly for a few minutes, Leonard asking her about her day. She responded almost truthfully. Though Carlos’s death still stung, she didn’t want to dwell on it, not right now. “What did you do all day?”

He shrugged. “Hit the streets and talked up some of my contacts. No one is saying anything. Either means they’re giving up or they’re prepping for something bigger. You sure you don’t have any leads?”

Sara scooped up the rest of the soup with a hunk of dense brown bread. She dropped her eyes, “No. So what does that mean?”

“It means we’ll be on our guard a little longer.” He was smiling faintly, but Sara could see that he was honestly a little concerned.

“Guess that means I should fix my door, huh?” she said, grinning.

“I have a guy coming out today to do it,” Leonard said, finishing off his own meal.

Sara stared at him until he looked up.

“What?”

“You’re getting my door fixed? That’s so...domestic.”

He chuckled, placing his silverware on his empty plate. “Lance, someone broke into your house and you make a habit of hanging out with villains. A door is the very least you should have.”

“I’m not disagreeing.”

They smiled at Kamila as she came back and cleared their table. She said something else, glancing between them with a universal grin.

Leonard flushed as Sara exchanged a look with Kamila that didn’t need translating. The woman squeezed Sara’s shoulder and kissed a reluctant Leonard on the cheek.

With another roll of his eyes, Leonard took out his wallet and hid money beneath his empty coffee mug, then gestured to Sara to hurry up. “She doesn’t let me pay and she’ll try to give it back.”

They dashed out into the cold air again, taking a different route back to Sara’s building. Cold and cursing herself for forgetting her gloves, Sara finished buttoning her coat and was about to shove her hands into her pockets, when Leonard laced his fingers between hers, pulling their interlocked hands into his coat pocket. His fingers were rough and warm, despite the cold weather, and Sara leaned into him a little.

Sweetness with Leonard wasn’t exactly what Sara had foreseen, but she was very much enjoying it.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked quietly.

Sara grinned up at him. “I did. Is this better than spying on me from a distance?”

He squeezed their joined hands together, “Significantly.”

She flushed slightly, grinning like an idiot and ducking her head before he saw.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asked after a long moment.

Sara sighed. “Paperwork and more paperwork. I have a Skype call with the agent of some movie star. That’s not until later, though. You?”

“Fixing your door. Then waiting for you, I suppose.”

They had reached her building and Sara tried for nonchalance as she led him around to the side entrance, off of the main street and nearly private. Once they were away from prying eyes, she let go of his hand and turned to face him. “So you’re staying over tonight?”

“I am, if that’s alright with you.” He wasn’t exactly asking, but there was still a question in his voice.

“Yes,” she said, a little too quickly.

He smirked, and stepped closer to her, his fingers hovering at her waist, barely brushing the fabric of her coat. His voice dropped a little lower, “I thought we could continue with that...conversation we were having this morning.”

“I felt like we wrapped that up nicely.” Sara tilted her head up at him, a smile playing around her lips.

“You did, did you?” he asked, leaning forward.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her eyes starting to close as Leonard’s breath played across her lips.

“Well,” he whispered. “If that’s the case…”

Sara waited, but when she opened her eyes, he had stepped back, arms crossed.

“Jerk.” She glared at him, but there was no real anger.

“Crook,” he reminded her, grinning. “If you’re going to-”

Sara never knew what she was going to do, because she grabbed his jacket and pulled him down to meet her, as she rose onto her toes. She felt him smile against her lips and his arms wrapped around her waist, beneath her jacket. He walked her backwards until she bumped against the wall. Their first kiss has been hesitant and sweet, this one was far more like Sara had imagined it would be like with Leonard - a little harder, a little rougher, and so much hotter.

His fingers dug into her, pulling her closer. Her hips rolled forward to meet him and Leonard swore briefly, his teeth catching at her lips. Sara breathed out his name and he broke away, his breath coming a little faster.

“You were right,” she managed to say, as she caught her breath.

“About what?” He didn’t sound as unaffected as he usually tried to be.

“We do have a conversation to finish.”

He laughed briefly, his forehead resting against hers for a moment.

“Too bad you have more work to do,” he said, staring down at her.

“Too bad,” she repeated.

Leonard exhaled slowly, then took a step back. “Then you should go now, Sara-Sara. Before I attempt to change your mind.”

That was a delicious prospect and she toyed with allowing it for a long moment. But duty called. She opened the side door and looked back at Leonard one last time, “I’ll see you tonight.”

His hands were in his pockets as he watched her, eyes still dark. “Absolutely.” 

Sara hurried inside, the door shutting behind her.

She wound her way back to the main lobby, to sign in with Perry again. She waved her ID, smiling quickly at Perry.

“Have a good lunch, Ms. Sara?” Perry asked eyebrows high and a smile in his usually gruff voice.

Sara turned to answer him, but her eyes were drawn to the monitor directly next to his computer. It was showing live video feed of the entrances and exits to the building-

Including the side door.

Perry’s grin only grew as Sara’s cheeks began to burn.

“Yes,” she managed to get out.

“Glad to hear it, Ms. Sara. You enjoy your day, now.”

“Thanks,” she squeaked, then hurried up to her office, her face flushed but the grin on her face not fading one bit.


	6. Chapter 6

Sara had finished her paperwork fairly quickly, then scoured the internet for a few minutes, a side project starting to consume her free time. She wasn’t about to tell anyone else about it until she had a lot more information under her belt. She sent out a quick email to her father, already anticipating his answer, but hoping for at least some guidance.

Her Skype meeting wasn’t until 5:30, and she had at least an hour and a half to kill until then. Catching up on some bills that needed to be paid, Sara cleaned out her personal and professional emails. Then she turned on the coffee pot, needing some additional caffeine. She sent out a quick text to a number she didn’t think she needed any longer, but if she wanted to confirm it wasn’t the League after her, she had to check with Nyssa. She didn’t expect an answer anytime soon.

As she was returning to her seat, her phone went off and Sara glaced at the display, smiling when she saw the snowflake.

**Dinner?**

She leaned against the counter, typing out a reply.  _ Are you asking me if I eat dinner or if I want to have dinner with you? _

**Both, I suppose.**

_ Then yes. Dinner on you? _

**I was thinking plates, but if that’s how you want it…**

She laughed and ignored that. _ Sounds good. I’ll be back around 7. _

**I’ll be waiting.**

Though she was mostly certain he didn’t mean anything about it, Sara immediately thought about their unfinished conversations. He wasn’t there and he still made her shiver.

The coffee finished brewing. Eyes on her phone, Sara walked over to the small and reached to pull out a cup from the cupboard above.

A click from the door made her turn, phone in one hand and other still on the cabinet. In the doorway, she saw a figure she’d only seen on news reports.

The Trickster, with wild hair, wide grin, and obnoxiously vibrant bowtie, stood in her doorway. But none of that made Sara freeze.

It was because of gun trained onto her chest.

“I heard you’re the one keeping me from meeting one of my fans,” he said, his voice eerily calm compared to the terrifying smile on his face.

Sara knew that reasoning with the Trickster was useless, so she didn’t bother. “Yup.”

“That’s so rude,” he said, stepping into the room. “I always love meeting my fans.”

“Hate to disappoint you,” Sara retorted, her heart clenching as she thought of what might have happened to Perry downstairs. Trickster didn’t know who the kid was, so she could just run - call the cops - and get out of here.

“You know,” he grinned, closing the door behind him and locking it with a loud click, “I don’t think that’s true. I think you did want to disappoint me. And little Jerome, too.”

The only warning she had was when his smile got slightly wider before he pulled the trigger. Sara dropped to the ground, hurling the coffee pot towards him in one smooth motion, her phone lost on the ground. His shot went wide and the pot shattered against his arm sending scalding coffee and shards of glass splattering over him and the floor. He shouted, but the second shot dug into the cabinet directly in front of her face.

She dove for her desk, reaching for the file with Jerome’s information. If he knew his name, it’d be easy to find his file. The gun fired again and she had to pull her hand back, but she snatched it the next second, holding it to her chest as she ran towards the window. It would hurt like hell, but she could-

The gun fired a fourth time and Sara cursed as it tore through her side. It burned, knocking the air out of her lungs, but it probably didn’t hit anything vital. She ducked the next shot; she could make it.

A strange sound came drew her attention and she barely registered the rolling chair that came towards her, knocking her off balance. She hit the file cabinets hard, feeling metal bite into her shoulder and side. Before she could recover - god, she needed to get back into League shape if she survived this - the Trickster was in front of her. She clutched the file to her chest, but the Trickster was right in front of her.

“I’ll be taking that,” he said, holding out his free hand with that sick smile.

“Over my dead body,” Sara snarled.

“Kind of the point, my dear.”

He fired and Sara twisted, taking the bullet in her shoulder, she slipped down the cabinets, clutching at the wound. The Trickster growled and leveled the gun at her head. She couldn’t move - she didn’t have it in her any longer. She she held the file against her chest, the blood from her side and shoulder starting to soak through the manilla envelope. Sara closed her eyes and wondered what Leonard would think happened.

The Trickster pulled the trigger and-

The gun clicked, empty.

“Darnit,” he said, a childish whine to his voice. He reached down and grabbed the folder, trying to pull it out of her hands.

Sara held on, refusing to let him have it, but he hit her with the butt of his weapon, and, her ears ringing, she couldn't hang on. “No,” she tried to say, but the world was beginning to spin and her vision was going dark.

“Sorry you’ll miss the show.” Trickster grinned down at her, raising the butt of the gun and bringing it down on her temple. The last thing she saw was him opening up the bloodstained envelope with a cackle.

 

* * *

 

“Lance!”

She woke up slowly, groaning at the pain in her shoulder and side. Remembering the Trickster standing over her, she flinched and pressed herself back into the wall, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. A figure shifted in front of her and she spat out, “Don’t touch me, you-”

“Sara, it’s me.”

She blinked again, seeing Leonard kneeling in front of her, his face looking paler than normal. Grabbing his arm, she winced, “Leonard, it was the Trickster. He has Jerome’s papers, we have to-”

“Take it easy,” he told her, trying to keep her seated. “You lost a lot of blood. Mick, call for some backup.” The big guy behind Leonard - she hadn’t seen him - grabbed a phone and started dialing.

“No, call the cops,” Sara argued. “The Trickster’s heading to Jerome now!”

“Sara,” Leonard said again. “You were unconscious.”

“I’m fine.” She struggled to get to her feet. Leonard helped her, but seemed reluctant to do so. He kept hold of her arms as she sagged against the wall. “We have to help him.”

“No,” Leonard said lowly. “Sara, you were unconscious.”

“I know, but-”

“For almost two hours.”

She stopped and inhaled, but couldn’t seem to find any air. “No, but Jerome…”

Leonard stared at her, “I’m sorry.”

“No!” She pulled free of him, heading towards the door, unsure of what she would do when she got there.

“Sara,” Leonard called after her, following her to the door.

“No. I have to help him, I can’t just leave him there!” She lurched sideways and had to grab at the frame. She missed entirely and started to fall.

Leonard caught her, lowering her to the ground gently. “Mick!”

“She’s on her way,” Mick called back, coming towards them.

She tried to push away from him, blood loss making it difficult, “Let go!”

“Sara!” he cursed, trying to keep her still.

From behind Leonard, Sara saw a rip in the air appear and out stepped a woman in black leather, glancing up at Mick. “I’ve got a portal to the hospital, who’s-”

“Trickster - he killed Jerome.” It wasn’t a question, but she was begging for someone to contradict her.

Leonard avoided her eyes, “Lance-”

“Tell me.”

He didn’t answer.

She turned away from him, refusing to let anyone see the tears in her eyes. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve been there for him. I should have...I shouldn’t…”

Leonard let go of her, sitting back on his heels. He didn’t say anything.

Mick and Gypsy approached, taking one of Sara’s arms each and pulling her towards the rip. They stepped through and it was only after Sara was being helped onto a gurney that she realized Leonard hadn’t followed.

 

* * *

 

Sara remembered bits and pieces of being in the hospital. Shifting from gurney to bed, taking medicine, the changing of the blood bags as they tried to replace what she had lost, and waking up at every hour of the day for the staff to check her vitals. The worst part was the restraints they’d been forced to put on her - her nightmares were too vivid, she’d split her stitches twice. She hated feeling like she couldn’t move.

Actually, Sara thought, glancing around the room, the worst part was the loneliness.

Detective West had been there the first time she’d really woken up, not because of pain or doctors, but waking because she was moderately rested. Sara had tensed upon seeing him, but he held his hands up.

“Ms. Lance, I’m not here to cause trouble. Gunshots mean a call to the police, so I’m just here to see what happened.” His voice was gentle and soothing and, oddly, worried. About her.

“Trickster,” Sara answered, her voice a little raspy.

“We assumed as much,” West said quietly. “He came into your office?”

Sara nodded, filling him in on the details that he was missing, glossing over everything that hurt too much.

“How’d you get out of there?” West asked.

Sara considered lying, but was too tired to care any longer. “Heat Wave, Captain Cold, and Gypsy. They brought me here.”

He visibly bit back what he was about to say, nodding. But now Sara had questions of her own.

“Jerome?”

Detective West shook his head. “Trickster got to him.”

Her breath came out in a staccato, but she didn’t cry. Not again.

“If it’s any consolation, it was quick,” West said.

Sara rubbed her eyes, the IV pulling at her arm. “Perry?”

“It appears that he did his best to stop Trickster. He was gone before Trickster got to you.”

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“And have you caught him yet?”

“No.”

He waited a moment, but that was all Sara needed to know. She could feel the old chill coming through her, a feeling she hadn’t had for several years. Sara was responsible for two deaths, but the man who had actually caused it was walking free, was  _ alive _ . That would have to be remedied.

West finally spoke, “Is there anyone you’d like us to call? Family? Friends...who aren’t criminals.”

She almost laughed, but she just shook her head. “No.”

“Because of what happened, and the fact that Trickster hasn’t been caught, we have to post a police presence outside your room. You phone was ruined, but it’s with your other belongings over there.” He pointed at the clothes that had been washed, but nothing could fix the holes in her shirt. “So if you were hoping for a visit or a call, I’m...I’m sorry if we’re inconveniencing that.” Standing, he straightened his coat, “Let me know if you need anything, Ms. Lance. I’ve got a man outside.”

“Thank you, Detective.” When he just nodded in a routine manner, she added, “Really. Thank you.”

He nodded. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Sara didn’t smile, but it was close.

The door shut behind him and Sara immediately reached for her phone. The screen was shattered and the phone still smelled faintly of coffee. She tried checked the battery, but it was too far gone. Glancing around, Sara reached for the hospital phone and dialed a number she hadn’t realized she’d memorized so quickly.

It rang. And rang. And rang. And-

The voicemail was the generic, robotic voice that came with most phones. Sara hesitated after the beep, and hung up.

She didn’t know what to say.

And for the first time in several weeks, Sara was completely alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per usual, I own nothing. This was all inspired by a text post from Tumblr/Pinterest and got way out of control.
> 
> This was difficult, so I'm not entirely thrilled with it. But I've rewritten it six times. Ugh. So I'm giving up and this is what you get. Apologies if it doesn't live up to expectations. :(

Sara stepped through her door, hesitating slightly at the new frame. She’d been sprung from the hospital earlier that day and though Kendra had offered to drive her, Sara had decided to take a cab instead. After seeing the small group of people outside the hospital holding signs, she’d decided not to involve anyone else. The nicest one was something about how those who befriend villains are villains. 

She told herself it didn’t bother her, but it did. Even if it wasn’t her fault, she should have stopped it. She should have stopped Trickster. She failed Jerome, she wouldn’t fail any other kid. Not again. She had to do something about it.

But first...

She grabbed the older phone that she had reactivated from her drawer. She dialed Leonard’s number with only the slightest hesitation. It rang three times before it picked up. But it wasn’t Leonard who answered.

_“Hey, Blondie.”_ The gruff voice was familiar, but unexpected.

“Hey, Mick,” Sara said. “How’s it going?”

_ “Still kicking. Glad to see you are, too.” _

“Yeah. So...where’s Leonard?”

Mick was quiet for a moment. _“He’s working.”_

“Working on what?”

_ “A job.” _

Sara was quiet for a moment. “He’s cleaning up, isn’t he?”

He sighed. _“What’d you think? He said he was watching out for you, and then...”_

“And?” Sara repeated.

_ “He’s looking for Trickster.” _

She squeezed her eyes shut. “And he’s given you his phone because…?”

_ “Distractions. Haven’t actually talked to him in a couple days.” _

She tried not to take it personally. She failed. “Okay. Do you think he’s going to find the Trickster?”

_ “Why, you worried about him?” _

Sara didn’t laugh. Running her hand over her counter, she said, “Anything?”

_ “Might have something in the warehouse district, but he’s got nothing on who leaked the kid to Trickster in the first place.” _

Sara made a noncommittal noise.

_“Listen…”_ Mick cleared his throat. _“What happened to that kid, it wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could.”_

“You trying to be nice to me, Mick?” she smiled faintly.

_“Blondie,”_ his voice got really soft and Sara had a moment of clarity as to why Leonard was so close to this man. _“You took two bullets to protect that kid.”_

Sara didn’t say anything.

_ “And I’m not trying to be nice, but I’m sure as hell not going to get on your bad side.” _

They laughed quietly for a moment, then Sara sobered a little. “If you see Leonard, can you let him know I’m looking for him?”

_ “I will. Get some rest, Blondie.” _

“See you around, Mick.”

She hung up and stared at her phone for a long moment. Then she turned it off and went into her room. Upon seeing a bag next to her bed, she frowned. That wasn’t one of hers. Tentatively, she opened it, staring at the unfamiliar black sweater on top. Had Kendra brought her something-

She pulled it out and recognized the item before it unfolded completely. Leonard had said he would be bringing a bag of his things over. Now it seemed to be for nothing.

Dropping the sweater, Sara turned back to her task and went to a small chest tucked into the back of her closet.

Inside was a dark robe that she hadn’t worn in years. A robe that she’d promised she wouldn’t put on again. A robe that was covered in blood from the League. A robe that, despite the promise she made, she had kept, just in case.

A robe that she pulled on now.

* * *

The warehouse district was huge. It was the most brilliant place to house the Trickster. It would have taken weeks to search it for any sign of Trickster, which is what Leonard must have been doing.

However, Leonard didn’t have access to some of the police references Sara did. Which is how she knew that the Trickster wasn’t in the warehouse district, but at the docks. So it was at the docks that Sara waited, curled up on a nonfunctioning crane and watching the numerous shipping containers. She sat in the cold for hours, reaching back into training she’d thought she didn’t need any longer, slowing her heart rate, slowing her breathing, until she was barely moving.

Sunset came and went, and Sara still sat, watching and waiting. She knew she’d find Trickster, because she’d always found her mark. And that’s what he was. A mark.

At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Hours continued to pass and it was beginning to approach dawn when Sara saw a flash of paisley fabric exiting a shipping container. She slipped from her perch, ignoring the scream of aching and frozen muscles, and followed Trickster like bad luck.

He slipped through alleys with the ease of someone who was used to being followed, but he wasn’t used to being followed by her. He entered the warehouse district and Sara reminded herself to give Leonard some points. He hadn’t been completely wrong.

The building he entered was almost finished, but it was missing the security system it desperately needed. Sara watched Trickster’s form go through the main lobby, then pass through the stairwell, up to the third floor. With an easy jump, Sara scaled the fire escape to the open windows and slid through the glassless frame.

She could hear Trickster’s breathing and whispered conversation to himself. The upside of tracking a psychopath is that he didn’t really think things through.

Briefly, Sara had a pang of conscience for going after a man who was clearly not all there. But then she thought of Jerome, and her own wounds pulled and burned, and she lost any sympathy for him.

Sara drew her blade and slid around a corner, seeing Trickster’s form in front of her. When she was in the League, she would hit him and get out. He would never see her coming. That’s what she should have done.

Coming up behind Trickster, she grabbed his coat and pressed her blade to his throat. He stilled, but laughed.

“How unexpected,” he whispered, trying to lean away. “To what do I owe the-”

“You killed a kid,” Sara hissed in his ear.

Trickster giggled, “I know!”

She pushed harder against his neck. “Why?”

“Because it was fun.”

Sara snarled and she felt blood begin to spill over the metal. She shoved him away from her, too angry to even think straight. He stumbled forward, turning to face her.

“Oho, it’s you!” he laughed. “The little wish granter.”

She stepped towards him, thinking it would be far more satisfying to kill him while he faced her.

“Here I was waiting for the Ice King to find me. My little birdy told me he was coming for me. I’d already gotten an idea to take care of him.” Trickster grinned, “It was going to be beautiful.”

Anger flared behind her eyes and she stormed forward.

“It was going to surpass even the boy’s show. And when I’m done with him, I’ll come back for more of your kids. And then I’ll come for you.”

Sara raised her blade, already knowing that this wouldn’t be enough for her. “No, you won’t.”

* * *

Sara slammed opened the door of the Saints and Sinners, the door knocking into the wall with a bang. In the silence that greeted her, Sara stepped into the center of the room. “Who told him?”

She thought it was done with Trickster, but it hadn’t been enough. She’d gone home, but not bothered to change. As night fell and her head was clearer, she thought over what Trickster had said, about his little bird. It’s not like she hadn’t been aware of the fact that someone had told Trickster, but now it was consuming her. She had to finish it, because then -

“Who?!” she shouted.

Only more silence. She cast her gaze around the room, stopping on Leonard and Mick. The thief was shaking his head, a black eye hiding his eyes even further, and half up out of his chair. Mick grabbed his arm, keeping him at the table, and eyed Sara carefully. Leonard opened his mouth, clearly ready to tell her to stop, but Mick hissed something in his ear.

It felt like weeks since she’d seen Leonard, but it had been less than four days. There was something in Sara that softened upon seeing him, but she buried it down beneath the black robe and the bloodied blade. It had been an eternal four days, which seemed to drag on forever. Whenever Sara closed her eyes, she could see Jerome and Trickster and Carlos and Lisa and if she continued to look at Leonard, she might not be strong enough to finish this. She might not be vicious enough or quick enough or- 

Sara looked away from Leonard. She had to finish this.

Mirror Master finally moved, exaggerated nonchalance as he picked up his drink. “Look, kiddo, what’s done is done.”

Sara’s eyes pierced him. “You told him.” It wasn’t exactly a question. Leonard and Mick both turned to Mirror Master, their eyes narrowing. Mick let go of Leonard and reached for his waist.

Mirror Master got to his feet, frowning, “So? We’re villains, did you really think you could-”

He didn’t finish his sentence, because Sara crossed the room, getting directly in his face. MIrror Master broke off, grabbing her wrist, “If you think you can-”

She wrapped the opposite hand around his arm, before twisting it back and snapping it in one swift motion. Mirror Master screamed and Sara slammed his head onto the table, leaning on his broken arm and breathing heavily. If she killed him, it would make things better. It would fix everything. But she glanced up and saw Leonard staring at her and realized that this was why she put away the robe and the League to begin with.

Because she realized that killing didn’t solve anything. No matter how many she killed, it never fixed anything. It only made her soul a little darker.

She looked down and spoke directly into his ear. The rest of the room was silent and her words were audible to all. “If you get one of my kids hurt again, I’ll kill you.”

She released him, stepping back and turning away. Mirror Master rolled onto his back, his face drawn and his free arm clutching the broken bones. He screamed at her, eyes rolling in pain. “It’s the Trickster! No one messes with the Trickster!”

Sara reached into her robe, pulling out a blood splattered bowtie and threw it on the ground. They all recognized it and they all were silent; Killer Frost, Gypsy, Mick, Mirror Master. She looked at Leonard and his eyes were wide, his mouth tight. And that’s what she’d needed from them.

That fear in all of their faces, it’s what she’d been dreading and praying for. It was enough to ensure what needed to be done. It was enough to make them listen. It was enough to scare them all and protect her kids. It was enough. And it was far too much.

Sara headed out of the open door, leaving a bloody promise in her wake, knowing that she could be ruining whatever fragile ties she’d created with these villains - these people.

And nobody followed her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Enjoy.

Sara didn’t know how long she sat in the shower. The water had been warm when she got in, but now goosebumps were rising on her skin and she shivered under the spray. She had scrubbed at her skin until it was red, but she still didn’t feel like it was enough.

Eventually, she turned off the spray and climbed out, staring at herself in the mirror. She was far too pale. Her eyes were sunken, but not nearly as shadowed as she expected that they would be. That was something, at least. Taking a moment, she wrapped the new bandages around her shoulder and stomach. The wounds were still significant, but healing better than some other ones she’d had.

A few hours later, Sara sat on her couch, rain pattering against the windows. A chill was creeping up her legs, but she didn’t make any move to slip under the quilt on the arm of the chair. The t-shirt was her usual fare for bed, but despite having gotten ready for bed some time ago, she wasn’t tired. Sara had been there for some time, but hadn’t been able to fall asleep. So she came out into the living room, but didn’t turn on the tv or grab a book. She was just sitting in the dark. Waiting for...something. She didn’t know what.

A key rattled in her door, and Sara opened her eyes, but didn’t get up. The lights were off in her living room, but the lamp from her bathroom cast a faint glow, revealing little more than shadows.

Footsteps thudded gently through her living room and stopped next to the couch. She wasn’t sure who the pause was for. Then Leonard stepped around the couch in front of her.

His coat was damp, the shoulders dark from rain, droplets clinging to his close cut hair, and a few on the unfamiliar shadow on his jaw. The faint light made his eyes impossible to read, not that Sara had been any good at it to begin with.

“You were telling the truth,” he said quietly.

Sara drew in a quiet breath, and let the timbre of his voice wash over her for just a moment. How was it possible to have missed someone so badly, when you’d only known them for a short time?

Dragging her attention back to his question, rather than the velvet of his voice, she nodded. It didn’t matter what he was referring to. “I was. I thought that was why you didn’t want…” She trailed off. Me? This? She wasn’t sure.

“You said you shouldn’t.”

That was more confusing to her. Sitting forward, she frowned, tilting her head.

Leonard took a step towards her. “When I - we - found you, you said it was your fault, and you shouldn’t. Shouldn’t what?” he asked. Though the question was simple, the tone behind it was almost nervous.

Sara shrugged. “I shouldn’t have let him get to Jerome. I shouldn’t have failed them. I shouldn’t have allowed him to take the file, I shouldn’t-”

He swallowed, a strangely nervous gesture for him. “You looked at me and said you shouldn’t. I couldn’t get to you in the hospital, and you didn’t call. And...”

Everything clicked into place. Sara felt a wave of guilt for what Leonard must have been feeling. And irritation that it had been over something as simple as a miscommunication. “My phone was ruined and the police had to stay. I tried calling from the hospital, but-”

“I couldn’t come around, not until I made sure no one else would-”

“I thought you didn’t want-”

“I thought  _ you  _ didn’t-”

Leonard crossed the room and knelt in front of her, putting them at eye level. Her chest thumped painfully; something about the sight of Leonard Snart kneeling in front of her…

He didn’t touch her, but his hands were placed on either side of her hips on the couch. “There is  _ nothing  _ about you that I don’t want.”

“Even though I killed Trickster?” she asked.

Leonard scoffed, “He deserved it. And if I had gotten to him first, I would have done the same thing.”

She almost smiled, looking up at him and touching the bruise around his eye. “How’d you get this?”

“Pissed off Mirror Master’s girl, Top.”

“She’s got a nice hook,” Sara observed.

He chuckled, “Tell me about it.”

She sat up, “I have some stuff that’ll help with-”

Leonard grabbed her wrist, keeping her on the couch. Sara settled back down, staring at him.

“I’m…” he trailed off and tried again. “I’m sorry. This was my fault, I should’ve-”

“No, Len,” she said quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And it definitely wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault but Trickster’s.”

He reached his hand up, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

“We missed dinner.” Leonard’s eyes darted between hers.

“And that conversation.”

He smiled, his eyes dropped to her mouth. “I was looking forward to that.”

“Me too.”

Leonard stared at her for a long moment, then, in a very unexpected move, dropped his hand and leaned back. “Then let’s get that dinner and conversation. Friday?”

Part of her wanted to insist that they have that conversation tonight. Now. But she realized he was probably right. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Leonard stood. “I’ll see you then. Goodnight, Lance.”

“Goodnight, Snart.”

He smiled, and started towards the door. Sara held her tongue until he reached for the doorknob.

“Leonard.” She stood, taking a step towards him.

He stopped by the door, turning to face her with his arched brow.

“Do you want to spend the night?” she asked, her hand waving lamely.

Leonard chuckled and she elaborated.

“I didn’t mean...” She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t mean having...that conversation. I just don’t...I don’t want you to leave.”

She half expected him to laugh it off or to avoid the dangerous closeness they were encroaching upon - spending the night without sex? - but he stepped away from the door and back towards her.

“I don’t want to leave,” he answered quietly.

“Then stay.”

He nodded. There was a strange tension in the air as Sara turned back to her room, painfully conscious of Leonard following her. She went straight to her closet, grabbing out a bag as Leonard shut her bedroom door behind her. The only light came from her bathroom and when she turned, it seemed like her room had gotten much, much smaller.

Taking off his coat, he folded it and placed it over the back of the chair in her room. Sara handed him the bag of his things and he took it with a quiet thanks before disappearing into her bathroom. He didn’t close the door completely, allowing a faint sliver of light to illuminate her room.

Sara glanced at her bed, the queen size seeming quite large for her, but now seeming miniscule. It was irritating, to want him close but also weirdly uncomfortable with the idea of him sharing her bed. Pushing it down, she climbed into the bed, pulling the worn comforter over her legs and sliding down until she was comfortable.

He came back, leaving the light on in the bathroom and a barely there glow. He was wearing sweatpants and a black tshirt, bare feet pale in the light. Slipping into the other side of her bed, he didn’t say anything, looking up at the ceiling.

They lay there in awkward silence for a few long moments. Then Sara looked over towards Leonard to find him looking at her, too. She laughed quietly, then rolled over onto her side, shuffling over to place her head on his shoulder and her arm draped over his middle. She felt him chuckle slightly, his arm shifting to wrap around her waist and curl over her hip.

His free hand came up under her chin to tip her head up. He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, barely brushing against her. Pulling away, there was almost no space between them as he murmured, “Sleep well, Sara Sara.”

Sara curled her fingers into his shirt, resting her head against his shoulder again and closing her eyes.

 

<><><>

 

_ Sara took a step forward, the cold air from the open windows slipping down her shoulders. Her mouth was tight as she glared at Trickster, who was talking in his nasal, irritating way. “It was going to surpass even the boy’s show. And when I’m done with him, I’ll come back for more of your kids. And then I’ll come for you.” _

_ Sara glared at the Trickster, her fists tightening around the blade. “No, you won’t.” _

_ She reached out, but found her hand was empty. She looked around for her sword, but there was nothing there. Checking her waist, there were no swords. No weapons at all. Confused, panicking slightly, she looked up and suddenly she was back in the office. Her stomach and shoulder burned, and though she had been through worse than this, willingly and repeatedly, this time tears pressed at her eyes. It hadn’t happened in the moment, too much adrenaline and righteous anger, but now, staring up at Trickster, the grinning psychopath holding a gun on her - _

_ She was terrified. _

_ She blinked and suddenly it wasn’t Trickster glaring at her. It was a blonde woman, her hand braided, black embroidered robe, flat blue eyes, and bloodied swords in her hand. The woman raised her sword and- _

“Sara.”

She jolted awake, but couldn’t move, pinned down around her waist. She flinched, trying to get away from whatever was.

“Sara.”

She woke up, her face inches away from Leonard’s.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Sara exhaled slowly, trying to orient herself. She was on her back, Leonard leaning over her, his arm over her waist, pinning her to the bed. Rubbing her eyes, she avoided looking at him. “Sorry.”

Leonard leaned back onto his side, giving her some room, but kept watching at her.

Sara stared up at the ceiling, trying to shake the nightmare, but failing. She sat up, thinking that maybe a run might help. “I’m just going to-”

With an annoyed groan, Leonard snagged her around the waist and pulled her back onto the bed. “You’re not going anywhere, Lance.”

She thought about struggling, but a glance at the clock showed that it was only a little after three. Giving up, she allowed him to pull her back. But she didn’t feel comfortable looking him in the eye, so she settled on her side facing away from him. He didn’t seem to take offense, scooting in behind her, his arm tightening. His breath hit the back of her neck and she suppressed the shiver. She thought he might go back to sleep, now that he had kept her from (quite literally) running.

“Nightmares?” he murmured quietly. Apparently not sleeping.

Sara didn’t answer, tension still coursing through her. Her hands shook and she wrapped them in the sheet to keep it from being obvious.

“I killed my father.”

She didn’t say anything. It wasn’t entirely surprising, considering what his father had done. And she didn’t judge him for it, she would have done the same thing.

“Bastard deserved it,” he continued quietly, his hand finding hers in the sheet. “It was quick and far more painless than it should have been. I had decades worth of hell from him and Lisa-”

“Lisa?” she interrupted, glancing back.

He exhaled, “My little sister. I did what I could to keep her from it, but I...couldn’t.”

“Len-”

“It’s been a long time. Point is, he deserved it. And I still struggled with it.”

She turned her hand in his to lace her fingers through his. “Nightmares?”

“Yes. But it doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve it.” He fell silent and Sara chewed her lip for a moment.

“I spent so long trying to recover after the League,” she said slowly, quietly. “I didn’t care about who I killed, but there was this ambassador, and he had a daughter, and she saw me…” She drew in a shaky breath. “I was losing myself. So I ran. I left. And I clawed my way back up to humanity, atoning by helping other people. And then Trickster.” She didn’t know how to finish that sentence, but Leonard didn’t seem to expect an ending.

His thumb ran circles over her hand. Not talking, just letting her know he was there.

“I don’t want to be that person again,” she whispered. “And I’m...scared.”

He was quiet for a long moment and Sara’s stomach churned with the panic of what she might be turning into once again.

“The League killed for what?” he asked.

Sara almost looked back. “What?”

“Why did they have you go after those people?”

“To control cities. Power.”

“And why did you kill Trickster?”

“It’s not that simple, I-”

“Lance.”

“To protect my kids.”

“Seems simple enough to me, then.” He pulled her closer and Sara felt lips on the back of her neck. “Now go to sleep, Sara-Sara.”

Amazingly, she did.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters belong to DC and prompt belongs to various individuals on Tumblr. The way it's all shoved together is all mine. :)
> 
> I apologize in advance.

Sara woke up slowly, with the unfamiliar clarity that came with a night of decent sleep. She didn’t move, taking in her surroundings with a faint smile. The rain was still pattering outside, the gray light gently illuminating her room.

The two of them hadn’t shifted much since her nightmare, but Leonard’s hand slipped beneath her shirt, warm fingers pressing into her skin. Their legs had tangled together, far more intimate than she had planned on getting.

She should really give up trying to anticipate how or when things happened with Leonard. 

Cautiously and with agonizing slowness, Sara extricated herself from the bed without waking Leonard, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the floor and slipped out into the kitchen.

By the time coffee was finished, she had placed a small stack of pancakes onto the table with a bowl of fruit and the bottle of syrup. A few moments ago, she heard the shower stop and footsteps in her room.

A second later, her bedroom door opened and Leonard came out. His jeans and t shirt was almost as casual as his sweatpants last night and Sara couldn’t help her smile. “Hey.” She held out a cup a coffee towards him.

Taking the coffee, Leonard looked at her with a smile. Then he frowned, humor still in his eyes, as he nodded at her. “Hate that shirt.”

Sara glanced down at the Flash shirt she’d worn to bed, then back up at him with a grin. “I won’t wear it tonight.”

“Promises, promises,” he responded, taking a seat at the table.

She nearly laughed, sitting across from him. “What are your plans today?”

“Well, you already took down the people on my to-do list, so I find that I’m free.”

Sara sipped her coffee, dropping her gaze. “Are you staying here?” Today, tonight, she wasn’t sure what she was asking. She didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t want to continue this under some stupid excuse.

“I would like to.”

“Even though no one else is coming after me?” she asked.

“Lance, this may come as a shock,” Leonard said, leaning forward on his elbows. “But you don’t need protection, so my being here was a complete ruse. Do I still need an excuse to spend time with you?”

“No.”

“Then,” he looked up at her, meeting her eyes squarely. “My plan is to spend time with you. That alright?”

She smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

* * *

Sara couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a lazy day at home. Rip had ordered her to take the next few days off and though she’d balked at the time, she suddenly didn’t mind the opportunity to stay home. Leonard and she lingered over breakfast, talking more than she’d ever heard him.

They talked about her sister and his sister. They talked about their parents and their vastly different childhoods. They talked about Mick and Oliver. They talked about the Green Arrow and the Flash. They talked about former flames and exes.

After they cleaned up breakfast, they curled up on the couch and threw on a movie they’d both discovered was an old favorite, sipping coffee and quoting along with Monty Python. Sara curled under a blanket, leaning her head on Leonard's shoulder. She dozed, the pain medicine she hated having to take making her a little drowsy.

When she woke up, the movie was over and Leonard was reading, not having moved while she napped. He closed the book as she shifted, rubbing her eyes.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Her stomach rumbled quietly. “A little. I want a shower, though.”

“Go shower. I’ll get something for lunch.”

She didn’t disagree, hoping the shower would help make the rest of the medicinal haze fade away. The steam felt wonderful as she stepped into the hot shower, taking care not to disrupt the stitches. When she felt human again, she stepped out, wrapping up her injuries again. A simple tank top and sweatpants was all she felt like wearing, so that’s all that she put on.

The smell of tomato soup brought her out with a smile, Leonard just finishing cutting a grilled cheese sandwich in half.

“How’d you know I love tomato soup and grilled cheese?” she said, joining him at the table.

“Lucky guess.” He placed a plate and a bowl on the table in front of her, taking the seat across.

“You did lunch, I can do dinner,” Sara said. “There’s this Korean place I love on 23rd and-”

“And Billings?” Leonard finished with a smirk.

Sara laughed, “Yeah.”

“Sounds good.” He took a bite of the sandwich and glanced across at her. “So, tell me about the League.”

She froze, the spoon halfway to her lips. “What?”

“The League. Tell me about it.”

She dropped the spoon, pushing away from the table. “Len, I don’t think-”

As she stood, he stood, too, stepping towards her. “Lance.”

“No, I should-”

“Stop.” He grabbed her hand as she started to walk away. “Stop. Just stop.”

Sara sighed, not making eye contact. Leonard ducked his head to block her view, forcing her to look at him.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Lance?” he said intensely. “I’m not going anywhere. Stop thinking there is anything about you that’s going to scare me away.”

“You don’t know everything.”

“I don’t need to. You’re the girl who helps sick kids. Who distracts the cops so me and Mick can get away. Who took two bullets to protect a boy you never met.” He squeezed her hand. “I know everything that matters.”

“You can’t possibly-”

“Do you hate me, Lance? Do you want me to go?” he interrupted.

Sara gaped, “No, of course not-”

“Then why are you so interested in pushing me away?”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you running?”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he dropped his eyes to her wrist with a raised brow, where he was hanging onto her.

“You’ve gotta stop being afraid of me, Lance,” Leonard said, loosening his grip slightly.

“I am not afraid-”

“You are. You’re afraid that I’m gonna learn the truth and run. Or worse, I’m going to learn the truth and stay.”

She pulled away from him, “Fine. Yes. I’m afraid you’re going to leave.”

“Tell me the worst thing you’ve done.”

“I killed people. Just because someone told me to. Multiple times.”

“Do you regret it?” he asked, his face blank.

“Of course.”

“Would you do it now?”

“No!”

He shrugged. “Then that’s all I need to know.”

“You…” Sara trailed off, unable to think of just what Leonard was. He was impossible, frustrating, ridiculous, amazing…

Without anything to say, and knowing he’d just argue or gloat, Sara took her only other option and leaned up to kiss him.

He froze for a moment, Sara taking a quick minute to relish in surprising the unflappable Snart. Then his arms encircled her, pulling her closer. He slanted his mouth over hers and Sara had to fight to keep her footing as Leonard kissed her. He was passionate and possessive, but his hands stayed fairly still, his body curling down towards her, around and over her.

Pushing her hands up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing against him as much as she could. She felt her stomach clench, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn’t inexperienced, but this felt like something momentous.

Inexplicably, his hands remained still. Though his kiss was burning her from the inside out, the rest of him seemed immovable. Taking a cue from before, Sara rolled her hips into his, victorious as Leonard’s grip tightened and he pulled away from her to gasp.

“Lance,” he whispered, the word barely touching the air before it hit her lips. “We said dinner-”

“We can count breakfast, instead,” Sara whispered.

Leonard laughed and the sound was like champagne in her chest, bubbling, light and carefree. She pulled back a little more to see his face, laugh lines around his eyes becoming deeper. “Oh, thank god.”

Her answering smile was cut short as he leaned the short inch down. Pressing his lips against her, Leonard pushed her hair away from her face, tilting her head upwards. Sara tried to catch her breath but, as with everything, Leonard put in 100% of his effort and focus on what he was doing.

But if there was one thing Sara was an expert at, it was giving as good as she got.

Her teeth scraped at his lip and though Leonard’s sharp inhale was telling enough, the way his hips pressed against hers was even more so. She tangled her hands in his shirt and pulled him against her. His arm wrapped around her waist and held her close.

Out of all the things she expected Leonard to be, gentle wasn’t one of them. The few times she’d denied daydreaming about it, she’d always imagined it would be a rough, teeth and nails, spur of the moment type thing. More like the alleyway.

However, this wasn’t like she’d imagined. He was persistent, yes, giving her no quarter, no space to breathe, but he held her carefully. Closely, inescapably, but never making her feel trapped. His hands spanned her waist, avoiding the bandages there with a careful nonchalance, as if he’d completely forgotten about her injuries. He never made her feel weak.

If she wasn’t already doing so, she would have kissed him.

All she wanted to think about was Leonard’s hands on her skin, tracing every scar she’d already explained and every one she hadn’t, not shying away from her past or present. How his lips covered every inch that wasn’t scarred, silently worshipping as he led them into her bedroom. She wanted to drown in the way his eyes refused to leave hers, neither one of them wanting to look away, even as clothes were scattered across her floor.

It was there, in her bedroom, the smell of soup and sandwiches following them, the echo of Leonard’s laughter fading in the afternoon light, that Sara realized she was in love with this thief.

There was no fear or even significant surprise at the realization. It was more like a truth she hadn’t been aware she’d already accepted. He was already so important to her, and proven that she was important to him, as well. He knew the worst things about her and accepted them and her.

She’d almost died. She almost lost this chance before they’d explored it and even the possibility of losing this -  _ him  _ \- made her breath catch. She wasn’t going to the grave without showing Leonard how she felt, even if she could barely find the nerve to think the words, let alone say them aloud.

“Focus, Sara-Sara,” he mumbled against her throat, drawing her attention.

Focus, huh?

Sara hooked her knee around his hip and reversed their positions, leaning over him with a grin. He smiled up at her, perfectly at ease.

“The view’s better from down here, anyway.”

She chuckled and dropped her lips to his again. He tasted like pancakes and metal. Dangerous and comfortable. She could spend days describing the taste of Leonard and even longer devouring it. His hands fisted in her hair and Sara melded against him, never quite close enough. Her fingers moved across his bare torso, following lines of muscles before jumping to the thin scars that crisscrossed his body. He hid a lot more than a nice body beneath his thick clothes, but she didn’t pity him. Just like he didn’t linger over her scars and bandages. That’s why they fit together so well.

Before either one of them could question the logic, Sara pulled away and shifted her hips just enough. Leonard’s breath hissed against her lips as he slid inside her and Sara pressed her forehead against his as they both caught their breath.

Leonard untangled one hand from her hair, running his thumb along her cheek. His eyes were wide, unclouded. Her gaze was caught by that icy blue and he murmured, “Sara.”

Just the sound of her name in his mouth made her tremble, so when he sat up, drawing her mouth back to his, that was more than enough. They moved together, finding a rhythm the same way they bantered together and flirted together and worked together.

Something far older and stronger than revenge or anger rose up in Sara, urged a little higher with every movement, every taste of Leonard on her lips, every movement of his hands along her back and in her hair. It hesitated just below the crest and Sara clung to Leonard's shoulders, barely hanging on.

As with all things, Leonard knew exactly what she needed. Fingers that had trained and practiced for years slid between them, pulling out every secret like she was the world’s most interesting lock, his eyes never leaving her face as he watched her fall apart, his name caught in her throat.

The cocky smirk only lasted a second before Sara kissed him, everything she didn’t say passing in silence between their lips, and he fell right after her, holding her for a long while afterwards.

For a few minutes, all that could be heard was the sound of their heavy breathing. Sara rolled off of him, lying across his arm.

“Have to say,” Leonard exhaled with a faint chuckle, “wasn’t expecting that.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning it.”

He laughed again, running his hand over his hair, turning on his side to look at her. “To be honest, I had been planning it, but you threw those plans out the window.”

“Hate to inconvenience you.”

“No, you don’t.”

She grinned, “No, I don’t.”

Cupping her cheek, Leonard leaned over and kissed her sweetly, somehow more intimate than what they’d just shared. Her eyes closed automatically, and it took her a breath after the kiss before she could open them again.

When she did, his eyes were open and watching her, still darkened. Everything felt raw and fresh, it was terrifying, but exhilarating, and it all felt so  _ right  _ that Sara couldn’t help it.

“I love you.”

Leonard’s eyes widened, and though he didn’t let go, his hand stilled on her skin. The warmth that had surrounded Sara started to disappear, the chill returning. The real world came crashing down and though she didn’t regret the words, she didn’t need to stay for the silence.

She started to get dressed, grabbing a pair of rainboots and a coat. “Still good with Korean for dinner?” Before she said it, she wondered if he would even want to say after she’d said-

“Uh, yeah.” After the uncharacteristic hesitation, he did agree. He started to get dressed, but Sara grabbed the doorknob.

“It’s fine, I’ll get it.”

He stood, unbuttoned pants hanging low on his hips, one hand reaching out for her. “Sara.”

“Later,” she said quietly, stepping back. “Let’s talk later.”

The silence was all she needed. She threw the coat on and left, grabbing her keys and wallet on the way out. The door clicked shut behind her and didn’t open again.

* * *

The Korean food was piping hot, steam escaping through the plastic and twining around Sara’s fingers. She was halfway home, her eyes on the wet streets, and too late did she notice the glimmer of silver vans and the reflective glass of cameras.

“Ms. Lance!”

Sara cursed under her breath, but there was nowhere for her to run to without giving the cameras a show of her panicked escape. Biting her cheek, she stopped walking and allowed herself to be surrounded by news crews.

“Ms. Lance, how do you answer the comments that Wishes Granted is a dangerous organization?”

“What is your thought on the lawsuit that Mr. and Mrs. St. Clair are leveling at Wishes Granted?”

“What is your relationship with the criminal underbelly with the city, particularly reports that your criminal liaison is Captain Cold himself?”

“Are you dating Captain Cold?”

“What about the claims that you should be considered a criminal yourself?”

“How do you respond to comments that it’s your fault Jerome St. Clair was killed?”

Sara inhaled sharply, dropping her eyes automatically before finding her voice to answer that question, at least.. “Jerome was killed by the Trickster. Neither I nor my liasian ever approached Trickster with his information, but he came after it anyway. I did everything I could to keep him from getting to Jerome and have the scars to prove it. Trickster is responsible for Jerome’s death. No one else.”

“And your response to Trickster’s death?”

Sara glared slightly at that question, “You’ll forgive me if I’m not broken up about it.”

“You’re the one who works with criminals. How do you justify your involvement with them?”

“These are men and women who’ve been forced to the outskirts of society. I’m not saying they haven’t made mistakes, but I’m not about to help them be punished for helping sick children. They’re risking everything to bring a smile to a kid’s face and I will not stop helping them to do that.”

“And the lawsuits?”

Sara swallowed. “No comment. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go home.”

It took more than a few polite words for people to move, but Sara pushed her way through the crowd, playing up her injuries when they weren’t inclined to allow her to leave. That proved to her it was a live feed - otherwise they’d convince her to stay and edit out her pain later. Eventually, the way was clear and she hurried the last few blocks home, taking her time up the stairs. She was more tired than she thought she would be.

She opened the door, steeling herself to face Leonard again. The kitchen had been cleaned up, their unused lunch thrown away and the dishes done.

“Len?” she called out, placing the bags on her table. She pulled off her coat and kicked off the boots, looking towards her room.

“Leonard?”

She walked into her room, feeling her heart rise up in her throat even before she saw what was inside.

More importantly, what wasn’t.

The bed made, the lights off, his bag gone.

Sara stared at the empty room for a long moment, then closed the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, this took a turn that I wasn't expecting.

“Sara?”

Sara jerked, turning towards Kendra. Her empty coffee cup was still in her hand as she stared towards the coffee maker. The mess had all been cleaned up, but this was the first time she’d been back at work since Trickster had come calling. The cabinets were still splintered from the gunshots and inside those shattered holes she could still see the faint dark brown tinge-

“You okay?” Kendra asked. She followed Sara’s gaze, then walked across the linoleum, grabbed the coffee carafe and brought it back over to Sara, filling up her mug.

As her fingers started to burn, Sara shifted the cup. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m sure Rip wouldn’t mind if you needed more time-”

“I’m fine,” Sara repeated sharply. Returning to her desk, she put down the cup of coffee and rubbed her temples, ignoring the ringing phone next to her.

The phones had been going nearly nonstop all day, calls from protestors and supporters, from news crews wanting a statement, from parents wanting or cancelling a meeting. Rip was having a field day trying to siphon the necessary from the nonsense and it was becoming almost unbearable.

“Hello?”

Sara’s head jerked up as she saw a woman standing in the doorway.

“Sorry, I’m here to see Mr. Hunter?” She was a petite woman with dark eyes, and a kind smile. “I’m Cecile Horton.”

Sara glanced over to Rip’s office, but he apparently overheard and was on his way over. “Ms. Horton, thank you so much for coming.”

“Of course.”

Rip noticed Sara’s gaze and introduced them, “Sara, Kendra, this is Cecile Horton. A defense attorney who will be representing us in the lawsuits both against Wishes Granted and you, Sara.”

Sara’s chest clenched as further mention of the problems she’d brought onto the company were brought up. She dropped her gaze, but Cecile smiled. “I’m here because I believe in what you do. You shouldn’t be punished for helping these kids. However, until this blows over, I would advise that you have no contact with your former...colleagues.”

Sara nodded, not mentioning she’d hadn’t had contact in several days as it was. There were a few kinds with requests that Leonard had approved...before, but she couldn’t get in touch with Pied Piper without him. “Right.”

“Most of the public opinion is on your side. We’ve got some great character witnesses, Maricruz and Diana have both agreed to speak on your behalf and on the behalf of Wishes Granted.” Cecile touched Sara’s shoulder lightly. “We’ve got this. Don’t worry.”

Forcing a smile, Sara did her best to believe her.

Rip spoke up, “Let’s get you settled, Cecile. I’m sure we’ll need you in a bit, Sara.”

Understanding the veiled request that she stay close, Sara worked quietly until lunch. Not wanting to go out, she ordered lunch for everyone, heading downstairs to retrieve it from security. On her way back up, her phone trilled, an unfamiliar number lighting up the screen.

Caution told her not to answer; chances were it was some protester or tabloid. But she was tired of hiding. She stopped on the landing and answered sharply. “What?”

_ “Blondie.” _

The voice was unexpected, but not unfamiliar. “Mick, what’s going on?”

_ “You seen Snart?” _

And with that, the rejection she thought she’d manage to bury came surging back up. “Not since Thursday.”

_ “He’s called, right? Texted?” _

“No.” And he hadn’t answered her calls or texts, either. A clean break, she’d figured, but now she wasn’t so sure. “What’s going on?” she repeated, but the tone was vastly different.

She wasn’t used to hearing worry from Mick, but it was there now, painful and out of place in his voice.  _ “You must’ve been the last one to see him, then. I didn’t think to call ‘til today, I just figured he was with you, but he ain’t answering anything.” _

This went beyond what he was saying, the nerves in his voice weren’t just because Leonard was... _ missing _ \- there was something more. “Tell me what’s going on.”

_ “Mirror Master’s dead.” _

“What?” she hissed, turning into the corner as someone walked past her, placing the food on the ground as her hand shook. “When? How? Do you think Leonard-?”

_ “No. We just found him. Jerry was opening up the bar and Mirror Master was strung up inside.” _

“Strung up? What do you…?”

_ “Jerry  figures it was a warning. Big ol’ sign saying ‘Criminal’ hanging ‘round his neck. Looks like someone’s out to get us.” _

“Did you call the cops?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

_ “No cops, Blondie. They wouldn’t do anything about it anyway.” _

“And Leonard?”

Even over the phone, she heard Mick swallow.  _ “Dunno, Blondie. He wouldn’t ghost you and he knows better than to drop off the radar like this. I don’t like-”  _ In the background, Sara could hear another voice, Gypsy, calling out Mick’s name.

_ “What?” _ Mick shouted, his voice coming in through as an echo, not meant for Sara, but still reaching her.  _ “Who?” _

There was a faint noise from the receiver, a hum, a voice? Mick was silent for too long. Sara’s heart slammed in her chest, something was wrongwrong _ wrong _ . “Mick?”

_ “Get to a TV.” _

She launched herself up the stairs, forgoing the food and shoving past the man who’d passed her earlier. The door of the office slammed into the wall, drawing Kendra’s attention as Sara stormed in, her phone still to her ear.

“Sara, what-”

Ignoring her completely, Sara ran to the break room, grabbing the remote and turning on the old TV. She opened her mouth to ask what channel, but she’d found it.

CCTV was broadcasting it, but it wasn’t the ethnically ambiguous news anchor that Sara saw. It was an unfamiliar figure in tactical gear, an orange visor covering his face, nothing identifiable visible on him at all. He stood close to the camera, blocking everything behind but some cement walls. She was coming in on the middle of his speech, but Sara caught on all too quickly, her stomach churning.

**“...is sick. Full of criminals and lowlifes and instead of getting them off the street, you’re allowing them to meet your children! You’re turning them into heroes when they’re monsters! Wishes Granted isn’t doing you a favor, they’re ruining your city.”**

Sara had the phone pressed so tightly against her ear, she could hear Mick’s breathing, but neither of them said a word. Rip and Cecile were coming out of the office, the former’s brows drawn in annoyance, but Sara ignored them.

**“They don’t deserve adulation. They don’t deserve forgiveness. They don’t even deserve prison. But your city is weak. You won’t do what’s necessary. I will. I’ve already begun.”** He held up a photo and Sara recognized the Saints and Sinners, though it was uncharacteristically empty. Except for one figure, hanging from the crossbeam in the middle of the room, his suit and dark hair familiar, though his face was barely recognizable beneath the distortion. Sara knew it was Mirror Master even without the sign hanging around his neck.

“Oh my god,” Kendra whispered between her fingers, standing behind Sara.

_ “Gypsy, figure out where this bastard is hiding,”  _ Mick was saying,  _ “He’s not gonna be staying long once I get-” _

**“It doesn’t matter the crime,”** the vigilante said. **“I’m here to end it all. Criminals and those who associate with them are going to have to face their sentence. But, I’m not unreasonable.”** Though his tone changed, Sara wasn't buying it made him any less psychotic. **“I can punish one in lieu of dozens. The one who made criminals seem friendly. The one who made them seem not so dangerous. The one who exposed our children to this lawlessness.”**

Even through the visor, Sara knew this man was staring directly through the camera, through the screens, all the way to her.

**“An example needs to be made and it needs to be you, Sara Lance.”**

A beat. Then-

_ “Blondie, don’t you listen to this motherfu-” _

“Sara,” Kendra grabbed her arm, “he’s insane, this isn’t your fault.”

Cecile was on the phone. “Joe, I need your help here at Wishes Granted. You heard him, he’s-”

Rip made to turn off the television, but before he made it, the vigilante spoke again.

**“I imagine you aren’t very motivated to take my offer. So to ensure you’re paying attention...”** He stepped aside and Sara’s breath punched out of her.

Leonard Snart was tied to a chair behind the vigilante. The black eye from Top was completely obscured by new bruises and cuts, his eyes were bloodshot, knuckles scraped and oozing. Duct tape was tight around his wrists and ankles, a piece across his mouth that was already stained. He was in the jeans and shirt he’d been pulling on when Sara had left to get Korean food, when she’d run. All this time and she’d thought he had left, and instead-

The vigilante glanced back at the screen. **“Have I motivated you, Ms. Lance?”**

Oh, she was motivated, alright. Her free hand clenched into a fist as her focus pinpointed to the pixels on the screen. She could hear the hum of voices around her, the hazy press of hands on her shoulders, but she stepped forward and away from all of them, the phone dropping to her side.

**“Mirror Master was merely evidence that I’ll do as I say. Captain Cold is to ensure you’ll listen to reason.”** He glanced back at Leonard, disgust in his voice. **“You’ll take the place of this criminal and all the others you’ve worked with, and I’ll leave, confident that my point has been made. Or they will all pay the price for their crimes. Either way, this city will be cleansed.”**

Sara’s eyes were trained on Leonard, and even if she’d hadn’t expected it, she saw the way he shook his head, warning her not to listen, not to believe him, not to consider taking the deal-

Not to do everything she was already planning on doing.

**“You will come to the prime location at five o’clock tomorrow, no police. I’ll exchange you for the rest of them. You’ll pay the price and I’ll leave. Or you won’t, and I’ll begin with this one.”** He nudged Leonard’s chair with his boot and ignored the look of seething hatred that rolled off the thief, even through the bruises.

The vigilante turned to the camera fully, blocking Leonard from view and forcing Sara to focus on him. **“Until tomorrow, Ms. Lance.”**

The screen went black.

* * *

Staring at the television, Sara didn’t know how long she stood without breathing. This couldn’t be happening.

The phone was still at her side, but as she lifted it back to her ear, Rip stomped forward and grabbed it. “Sara, you can’t possibly be considering this.”

Cecile was still talking on the phone, but even now, Sara could hear the sound of sirens approaching the building. Coming to save her. She needed a minute to process all of this. She needed a second, just to figure out what she was going to do.

Kendra’s eyes were wide as she stared between Rip and Sara, but something clicked. “The snowflake. It-” she broke off at the look Rip shot her, dropping her eyes.

“Sara,” Rip shook her shoulders. “Look at me.”

“I am, Rip.” Her voice was so calm, it even impressed her. “What do you want me to say?”

“Say that you won’t listen to this psychopath!”

Her response was cut off as the news began to play the clip again. Cecile muted it, putting the captions on, but kept the television on, watching the screen carefully. She said, “Okay,” and ended the call, not glancing towards the door when Detective West came in.

He nodded briefly to Cecile, turning to look at Sara. “Ms. Lance.”

“Detective.”

“We’ll need to move quickly. Units are already on the way to your apartment, to make sure you’ll be safe. You’ll have an escort with you from now until we catch this vigilante. Nobody’s getting near you,” he said. He turned to Rip, “I’ll need a rundown of ever case you’ve done involving criminals, this guy might be-”

“What about Leonard?” Sara interrupted.

West and Rip drew up short. “What?”

“What about Leonard? Captain Cold.” She gestured to the tv, where the vigilante was repeating his threat. “If I don’t meet him, he’s going to kill him. He going to kill a lot of people.”

“Sara, that’s not important right now,” Rip said. “We need to keep you safe.”

“My men are working on finding his location and trying to bring him in without any casualties,” West assured her.

“So use me as bait.”

“We can’t risk you.”

“But you’ll risk him?” Sara argued.

“Ms. Lance-”

“For god’s sake,” Rip interrupted with a snarl. “They’re criminals, Sara!”

And there it was. All this help for her, when she was safe. Meanwhile, Leonard had been held for who knows how long, and no one was raising a finger to help him.

If they knew she was much more guilty than any of the criminals the vigilante threatened, would they be helping her?

She moved to the door, but West got in the way. “Ms. Lance, please. You need to remain here.”

“I have to do something.”

“I have units in the hall already, men at your place, and we’re canvassing for the vigilante. There’s nothing for you to do right now.”

And nowhere for her to go, the silence added.

She sat in her chair, unable to hit West; he was just doing his job. Besides, where could she go? Her eyes were drawn to the television again, watching vigilante’s threats scroll across the bottom of the screen, Leonard’s face twisting guilty knives into her stomach.

How could she have doubted him?

Rip and West continued to argue, Cecile stepping in when it got too heated before the three of them retired to the conference room to review her files. Kendra went in with coffee for the three of them, before coming back to Sara’s desk.

“Rip wants your files,” she said quietly.

As Sara mechanically pulled out the files related to the criminals, Kendra dropped Sara’s phone onto the desk quietly.

Surprised, Sara looked up, but Kendra was already walking away.

Sara shot off a couple of texts to Mick’s number, holding her breath as they sent.

The tv showed Leonard again, and Sara’s resolve strengthened.

A buzz of energy next to her came mere seconds after her message, and the only thing that could draw her attention away from the screen. West, Cecile, and Rip jumped out of the conference room, tangling in the doorway.

“Sara, don’t you dare!” Rip shouted.

“Ms. Lance, please!”

Gypsy stuck her shoulders through, her eyes cold. “Let’s go.”

Sara glanced at Rip, West, and Cecile, their faces terrified and worried, though she doubted it was for the criminal on the screen.

“I can’t advise you going,” Cecile said, but her voice lacked any conviction.

“I know.” Sara grabbed Gypsy’s hand and allowed herself to be pulled through.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, it's a big week for Mick. I'm cool with that.

“You can’t do this,” Mick rumbled.

Sara ignored that, the bag of weapons Gypsy had brought through from her apartment spread out on the table. She picked up a dagger, putting it back into the bag. Putting aside the large sword, she grabbed a length of wire that she rolled up and put that into the bag as well.

The Saints and Sinners should have been under investigation for Mirror Master’s murder, but Sara knew the unfortunate truth - that the cops weren’t going to do anything about him. She and Mick had wrapped the body and put him in the freezer until they could come up with a better answer.

“Blondie, he’s going to kill you.”

“He’s going to try,” Sara corrected without looking up. As large hands moved her bag away, she sighed, finally catching Mick’s eye.

“Snart is my brother. I’ll go after him. You don’t need to do this,” Mick said.

“I appreciate it, I really do. But if I don’t go, Vigilante’s going to kill him immediately and you know it. Besides, he asked for me.”

“So you’re actually going?”

Sara glanced towards the door of the Saints and Sinners, several people entering. Mick got to his feet, fists clenching.

“Frost,” Mick said cautiously.

Killer Frost, a beautiful woman with icy white hair, nodded at him. “Heat Wave. You remember Pied Piper and Top.” 

“What’s this, then?” Mick asked, frowning. He was tense, but Sara remained in her seat as the trio approached, arcing around her booth, but not blocking her in entirely.

“We wanted to see her,” Killer Frost said. Despite the look, her voice wasn’t angry or aggressive, just surprised and a little suspicious. She cocked her head at Sara, “The little hero.”

“I’m not a hero,” Sara retorted, grabbing another blade and sliding it into her belt.

“You’re going to save Cold,” the Pied Piper said. His hood looked out of place in the bar, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my fault he’s there.”

“You care about him,” Top said quietly.

Sara stopped and looked up at Top. The blonde’s eyes were red rimmed and swollen. She kept her gaze on Sara and away from where Mirror Master had hung. Sara had no lost love for Mirror Master, but…

“I’m so sorry,” she said quietly.

Top shrugged weakly. “Sam may have been an idiot, but I loved him. And that bastard just…” Her eyes welled up and she turned away for a moment.

Mick glanced between Sara and the other villains.

Finally, Top regained control and looked back at them. “So what’s your plan?”

“I’m going to rescue him.”

Pied Piper scoffed, “You’re just going to walk in alone and set him free?”

“I can’t have any backup.” At Mick’s annoyed look, Sara clarified, “I don’t  _ need  _ any backup.”

“Foolish,” Piper said, crossing his arms.

“I’ve got it.”

“You killed the Trickster and that was great, really,” Frost said, sarcasm cracking off her words. “But this isn’t some psychopath with a Joker fetish. This psychopath is clever and well trained. And he’s got one hell of a leverage piece.”

“Do you want me not to go?” Sara asked, not entirely sure what was happening here. She sat back in the booth and eyed these three villains.

“Of course we want you to go, we don’t want to be hunted down,” Frost said, rolling her eyes.

“So what do you want?” Mick’s blunt question drew their eyes for a moment, but then they looked back at Sara, but didn’t speak.

Top took a step forward. “We want to help.”

“...what?” Sara asked.

With a huff, Top pushed by Mick, taking a seat across from Sara at the booth. “Don’t read a lot into this. We want vengeance. Kill Vigilante for what he did to Sam. And in exchange, we’ll get Cold out of there. Gypsy gets us in, you keep Vigilante distracted and we’ll get Captain Cold.”

“I can do that,” Mick rumbled dangerously.

“Subtlety isn’t your strong suit,” Pied Piper added. “You are more than welcome to help, but we can handle the extraction. Sara here will handle Vigilante and the cops.”

Sara was sorely tempted to take this deal. But she thought of the way they looked at her, how she’d looked at herself in the mirror - how Leonard had looked at her - when she’d killed Trickster. And she didn’t want anyone to look at her like that ever again.

“No,” she said quietly.

Top frowned, staring at her. “What?”

Sara leaned forward across the table. “I’m not going to kill Vigilante. But I’ll stop him from hurting anyone else and he’ll get what he deserves.”

“He deserves to die!” Top shouted, her voice breaking.

“That’s not my decision. And if I kill him, I’m exactly like him. But I’ll stop him from going after the rest of you,” she promised. “And you’ll get Cold out.”

“Blondie,” Mick muttered cautiously.

Top stared at her for a long, long moment and Sara wondered if she’d ruined her chances. Then the woman nodded. “Deal.”

Mick swore under his breath, walking away from the table briefly.

“This is good for all of us,” Pied Piper reassured him. “She’ll stop Vigilante and we’ll save the crook. Everyone gets saved.”

Mick grumbled under his breath. Sara knew he wasn’t pleased, but this was the best option. Gypsy could get them in, and the other three could help cover for Mick’s bluntness, get Leonard out, and escape. She could handle Vigilante.

“Alright,” Sara said, extending her hand.

Top shook it, her hand holding a little too tightly. “Fine.”

“Well,” Frost drawled, “this is so after school special, but do we actually have a plan?”

Sara looked back down at her weapons, “Gypsy is out trying to find Vigilante’s location.”

“Well, that was painfully obvious,” Pied Piper said, leaning on the booth.

Arching her brow, Sara waited.

“The prime location,” Piper repeated from Vigilante’s message. “Primes were discovered by Euclid.” He pulled out a phone and a map of Central City, focusing on one street. “On Euclid Street, there’s only one prime numbered building, 1373...and it’s five floors, meaning he would be on the first, third, or fifth.”

Sara stared at Piper, a little amazed. “1373 Euclid Street. Smart.”

“Please,” Piper said, rolling his eyes. “It was simple mathematics.”

Sara looked at Mick. “Can you get in touch with Gypsy and see if she can scout out that building? Where Vigilante is, where he’s holding Cold, what he’s got. Everything she can get without being seen, but do not engage with him.”

Mick fired off a couple of texts, while the other three villains watched Sara.

“Fine, the plan will be simple,” Sara said. “Gypsy will give us the location. I’ll walk in, distract Vigilante and get him away from Cold. Then you’ll grab him and get him out.”

“And you?” Top asked.

Sara was surprised at the question. “I’ll be fine. Your only job is to get him out of there. I’ll distract Vigilante until the cops show up.”

“How do you know the cops will show up?” Frost asked. “They aren’t exactly jumping to help us.”

“Because,” she answered, holding up her phone, “I’ll turn this on just before I arrive, and the cops will undoubtedly be trying to trace it. They’ll show.”

“And how will we know when to show up?” Mick asked, returning to the group.

Sara glanced at the television. “I doubt Vigilante will want to keep this private.”

Piper nodded, apparently approving of her simple plan. “Then we’ll meet here tomorrow at three?”

Honestly, there wasn’t much more planning to do, and Gypsy’s transport would be nearly instantaneous. But she nodded just the same. “Three o’clock.”

“Great. See you tomorrow.” Frost smiled. “This should be fun.”

The three of them filed out of the bar, leaving a bit of a stunned silence behind them.

Sara shook her head after a moment, zipping up her bag with the weapons she’d decided to take. “That was unexpected.”

“Yeah,” Mick mumbled. He was still staring at the door. Then he straightened, looking down at her. “Where are you going tonight?”

She shrugged, “Here, I guess. They’ll be watching my place and work. My cards are probably being watched. I can just stay here, it’s-”

Mick shook his head, “Nah. Come on. I’ve got a place you can stay tonight.” He picked up her bag and led the way out the door, leaving her little choice but to follow.

* * *

The apartment complex wasn’t exactly what Sara had in mind for Mick. It wasn’t a great area of town, but one that was undergoing gentrification and getting better. There was a small park across from the building that had a few kids swinging on it, their laughter echoing across the pavement.

Hard to believe that some people were going about their day as if nothing had happened. It was only six in the evening, but it felt like a century since the television broadcast. Sara swallowed hard and followed Mick up the stairs. Though there was an elevator by the mailboxes in the lobby, Mick passed it, just going up one flight of stairs before opening a door on the right side of the landing.

The apartment was airy, open, and completely unlike Mick. The pale blue-gray walls were comforting, the worn, leather couch in front of the television looked appealing. Bookshelves lined the living room, and were packed full in every available inch. The kitchen was simple but functional, a couple of barstools lining the tall counter. Three rooms came off of the living room, and behind one of the them, Sara could see a bathroom. A small piano sat in the corner, the stand heavy with sheet music.

“This your place?” she asked.

Mick placed her bag next to the door, heading toward the fridge and grabbing a beer out of it. He raised his brows to Sara and she nodded, accepting another one. If she wanted to get any sleep at all tonight, she’d need some assistance.

Mick took a deep swallow from the bottle, draining half of it before answering. “It’s Snart’s.”

Sara hesitated as she went to sit down, guilt keeping her from getting comfortable. “Oh.”

Mick finished his beer, but didn’t grab a second one. He eyed her, taking the large armchair in the corner. “Sit, Blondie.”

She did, on the very edge of the couch cushion, her thumb peeling at the label of her bottle. She didn’t look at Mick, but could feel his gaze on her.

“So,” Mick said. “Why are you so hellbent on doing this alone?”

He didn’t mean about the evening, or the vigilante, or even the abduction. She inhaled slowly, the quiet and comfort making her twisting stomach seem all the more obvious. Leaning forward, she held her drink in both hands.

“It’s my fault,” Sara whispered.

“Vigilante ain’t anybody’s fault, he-”

“No,” she interrupted him. “I...Leonard was with me and we...we had a conversation…”

“I’m not stupid, Blondie. I got it.”

“Afterwards, I said something I shouldn’t have, and things got weird, so I left, but when I came back…”

“He was gone,” Mick filled in.

Sara nodded. “And if I hadn’t assumed that he’d just left, if I had thought to look for him, maybe it couldn’t have been so long, maybe I couldn’t gotten to him earlier, maybe Mirror Master - Sam - might still be alive, and-”

“Jesus, Blondie, stop being so damn arrogant.”

She looked up at Mick with a frown, “Excuse me?”

“This Vigilante must’ve been watching you for a while. He got into your home. He knew you and Snart were close. He knew about the bar. You think that if you’d’ve been there, it wouldn’t have turned out the same?”

“Maybe, but-”

“It could’ve just as easily been you, and Vigilante making Snart give himself up. There was no way this was going to play out without someone getting hurt.”

“But if it had been me-”

“Snart would be in this same position, Blondie. He would’ve listened to me just as well as you have. Trust me, he probably prefers it this way.” He put his glass on the coffee table. “Snart cares about you. More than I’ve seen him care about anyone other than me and Lisa. And if it were a choice between him and you, he’d choose you every time.”

That didn’t soothe the guilt. Sara rubbed her eyes, trying to get rid of that constant ache in her skull.

“What’d you say?” Mick asked. “Before you left. What did you say that you thought scared him off?”

She glanced at him, dropping her eyes quickly. “I told him I loved him.”

He chuckled, “That ain’t news, Blondie. We all knew it.”

“Well, he didn’t seem interested in hearing it.”

“That’s ‘cause it doesn't happen all that often for Snart. Nobody comes to him ‘cause they actually care, ‘cept a select few. They always come to him because they need something from him. All he’s got to go off of is what his dad taught him, which was just pain.” Mick stood and grabbed another beer. He tossed another to Sara, who caught it on instinct. “You’ve been throwing Snart for a loop every time you opened your mouth.”

“No, I haven’t.”

He started to tick them off on his fingers. “You called him out on his crap, you kept the cops at bay for me and him in the hospital, you didn’t rat us out even when you were picked up by the cops, you listened to his judgment, you didn’t argue when he told you Trickster was dangerous, and you trusted him.” He scoffed, sitting back, “Not to mention you’re a goddamn gorgeous badass who took two to the chest and kept going, and who’s such a friggin’ white hat, that you’re about to be sued for how much you help kids. Who wouldn’t be thrown when you say you loved them?”

“I’m not…” Sara trailed off, unsure of what she wasn’t. “But I’m not.”

“You are to him.” Dropping the second empty bottle on the counter, Mick shrugged. “He’s been in love with you since the moment you yelled at him at the bar. He’s just shocked you actually feel the same. Don’t give up on him ‘cause he’s emotionally stunted.”

Sara smiled, ignoring the way her face felt a little wet. “I won’t.”

“Good. We’ll get him back, and you’ll keep your mouth shut about everything I just said.” He sniffed, straightening his coat. “Don’t want anyone thinking I’m going soft.”

“Got it.”

“My room’s through there. You can sleep in Snart’s.” He gestured towards one of the closed doors, then paused. “And if you try sneaking out without me, I’ll make you regret it, assassin or not.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” she promised.

He nodded, opening his door. “Whatever happens, I’m glad you showed up at the bar. You’ve been good for him. For lots of us.”

Sara didn’t think everyone would agree, but she took the compliment with a smile anyway. “Goodnight, Mick.”

“‘Night, Blondie.”

He shut the door behind him and Sara heard the sounds of a tv turning on. She sipped her second beer slowly, reading the spines of the books. Eventually, the bottle emptied and the room got darker. Taking a seat at the piano bench, she trailed her fingers across the keys, a faint plinking sound echoing faintly in the empty room. She hadn’t known Leonard played. Hopefully, she’d get to hear him.

Soon, her lids began to tug towards one another and she couldn’t delay sleep any longer. Though it wasn’t incredibly late, it had been an exhausting day and she was still recovering. What she wouldn’t give to spend a week in bed without worrying about villains or vigilantes or lawsuits…

She washed her face and teeth best she could in the bathroom, noting the small bottle of cologne on the sink. Raising it to her nose, she took a small sniff. It was almost like Leonard, but not quite. It lacked the warmth. The edge.

Leonard’s room was sparse. A large bed dominated the room, dark blue sheets under a grey comforter. There were a half dozen pillows thrown against the wooden headboard, and Sara smiled faintly. There were six books piled on the nightstand, an empty glass of water, a small pile of papers, and a lamp. She turned off the overhead light, but left the lamp on. As Sara slid into the bed, she had to pause as Leonard’s scent surrounded her. It was dulled slightly after so many days without its occupant, but it was still faintly there. 

Something solid knocked into Sara’s fingers as she wrapped her arm around the pillow. A knife.

She almost laughed, then put the knife on the nightstand. In the process, she knocked over the pile of papers onto the floor.

Sighing, she leaned out over the bed to pick them up. A familiar face made her pause.

Little Lisa, with Leonard’s goggles around her neck, grinning up at the camera. Leonard’s face was half in the photo, but he was smiling down at her and Sara knew that, despite everything that occured, she still would have told Leonard she loved him. Because how couldn’t she?

Curious now, she flipped through the other photos. Mick and Leonard in a battered bar, broken bottles and unconscious patrons scattered in the background. A woman with dark hair who had Leonard’s wicked smile - must be his sister. A few others that Sara couldn’t place, with dates and names that meant nothing to her. And the final picture.

It was her. She really shouldn’t have been surprised. It was taken from a distance, when she was entering her apartment. Her coat was bundled up to her chin, cold air whipping color into her cheeks. There was a faint smile on her face and her eyes were lifted to the sky. On the back, there wasn’t a date. Just a scrawled phrase-

_ Sara-Sara _

Replacing the picture, Sara settled in among Leonard’s bed, pulled the comforter up to her chin and closed her eyes. Tomorrow, one way or another, Leonard would be safe. No matter what.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for the angst??

Sara’s boots echoed in the bar. The only sound, other than the faint click of the second hand. Ignoring it for as long as she could, Sara stared at the floor until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She glanced at the clock. 

Quarter after three.

Mick was sitting at the bar, oddly still. Only his eyes moved, tracking Sara as she paced. “We’ve got time, Blondie,” he said, as she huffed out an annoyed sigh.

“Not a ton.”

He grunted, and that was the only sound other than Sara’s boots for another fifteen minutes. She’d forgone her robe for an easier look. Close-fitting pants, boots, a thin coat. It wasn’t until she looked in the mirror that she’d realized who she was emulating. And then it had only strengthened her resolve.

At quarter of four, Sara glared at the door. “We’ve gotta move. I have to get into place. I can’t believe…” she sighed, rubbing her eyes.

“Villains, Blondie. What else did you expect?” he said, making a call on his cell phone.

Sara didn’t move when Gypsy’s portal opened in the middle of the bar. With a quick glance around the room, Gypsy rolled her eyes. “They all bail?”

“Who needs ‘em?” Mick said, getting to his feet. He tossed Sara’s bag to her. “We doing this?”

She took two minutes to place her weapons on her person, then looked at Mick. “You are only allowed to come if you get Leonard out. I don’t care what else happens. You get him out, understand?”

Mick nodded after a long moment. “Alright, Blondie. I got it.”

“Promise me.”

“I swear it, Lance.”

She looked at Gypsy.

Gypsy rubbed her hands together. “He’s set up shop on the fifth floor. Cold’s in the east-most corner. Two tripwires in the stairwell. And he’s got a full on armory. You sure you’re up for this?”

Sara didn’t even look at her. “Just open it.”

Mick turned on the television. “We’ll be waiting. Don’t forget the phone.”

Sara patted her pocket. “Got it.”

“Both of you better get back here safe,” he added.

“I’ll get him out,” Sara promised.

“That not what I said.”

Gypsy opened the rift and Sara jumped through without another word.

As the rift closed behind her, Sara dropped to a crouch, the close of Gypsy’s rift leaving a deafening silence. For a long moment, Sara didn’t move, holding her breath to make sure no one heard it. When nothing seemed to react, she exhaled slowly. Turning her phone to silent, she pushed the battery back in and placed it in the stairwell. It lit up almost immediately, but she ignored that.

Sara slipped through the door in the stairwell, her eyes constantly roving back and forth. The floor appeared empty, but Sara knew better. She saw two more tripwires and three nearly invisible security cameras, but easily avoided those. Some of them she didn’t avoid, and took a few precious moments in examining them. She spent the next several minutes inching closer, tracking every shift in the air as she got closer and closer to Vigilante. 

To Leonard.

Sara could hear noises, footsteps, speaking, and most infuriating, the sound of fists hitting flesh. It took everything in her not to move the first time she heard it, to ride it out, to get close enough -

But she controlled herself and edged closer without being seen.

She came to a corner and removed her blade, holding it up to look around the turn. It didn’t give her much, but enough. She could see a tall figure moving about, pacing, boots barely making a sound as he strode back and forth. Another figure sat in the corner, and Sara could barely hear a haggard breathing.

Her chest clenched and she glanced at the time, five after.

“I made it clear…” Vigilante muttered. “I said five. Could she not figure it out?” A pause and Sara heard the sound of sirens below them. “Or was she smarter than I thought, and left you to die in her place?”

No answer came from the thief. 

“Fine,” Vigilante muttered. “Time to begin.”

A mechanical button was pushed, a quiet beep, the Sara heard Vigilante start to speak.

“As stated, the time has come. Unfortunately for my guest of honor, Ms. Lance was more clever than I gave her credit for. She was just the first to learn and this man will be the first to pay-”

Sara stepped out, her boots echoing on the cement floor. She prayed Mick was ready. This was never about getting close enough to kill Vigilante. It was too dangerous with Leonard’s life on the line. She was here to make a scene and Vigilante would never have looked away if she was anything less than a credible threat. 

And she was ready to be goddamn credible.

Vigilante turned, the red light of the camera just over his shoulder. “Ms. Lance. How...unexpected.”

Sara approached the masked man, forcing her to keep her eyes away from Leonard, but she couldn’t ignore the faint drip of blood on the floor, or the haggard sounds of his breathing. Any residual doubt she may have had about her decision hardened and faded away.

“You don’t have to do this,” Sara said, taking an arc away from Leonard, walking parallel to the camera. “You can let him go.”

“Someone has to clean your city, and if you-”

“So you’re going to clean it with blood?” she asked. She was nearly level with the camera, and could finally see Leonard’s face. Against her better judgment, she looked. His eyes were clouded, sunken in his bruised face and she had to take a deep breath. He tracked her in silence, the tape on his face making speaking impossible, not that he could have said anything to make her leave. She wouldn’t leave. But she looked away.

“I have to say, I’m surprised,” Vigilante said. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. You know none of these vermin would do the same for you.” Vigilante kept pace with her, kicking Leonard’s chair and moving to keep between them. She’d have to bait him.

“He helped kids,” Sara said quietly, gesturing at Leonard, though the camera didn’t see her. “He shouldn’t be killed for helping kids.”

“He’s a criminal.”

“And you’re a saint?” she retorted, stepping nearer. Vigilante took a step away from Leonard, towards her, his hand inching towards his belt.

A muffled sound came out of Leonard’s mouth and the chair legs clacked on the ground as he attempted to move. Vigilante didn’t even blink. “When the last criminal is gone, I’ll get rid of myself.”

“They’ll never be gone.”

“Then I will remain.” He took another step towards her and Sara heard the click as the safely was clicked off of his gun. The chair clattered again, louder this time. There were several feet between Leonard and Vigilante now.

“I’m here,” Sara said, taking a half step nearer. It put her in the picture, and Vigilante took three steps closer. “Honor your end of the deal. Let him go.”

“The deal is only good if you die.”

Sara shrugged, extending her arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Vigilante started to laugh. “Oh, my dear.” He held up a small electronic device, a red button in the center. “You’re both going  _ everywhere _ .”

“Ready?” Sara called out.

Vigilante frowned, but pressed the button anyway, his eyes closing in fanatic devotion as-

A rift opened behind them, lost amid the sounds of the camera, and the sirens, the beeping, and Vigilant’s curse as he realized what she’d done. Mick came through, Gypsy barely visible behind him. They grabbed the arms of Leonard's chair and attempted to pull him, the screech of the wood against concrete making Sara wince. Vigilante began to turn and Sara stepped closer, making her the target.

“Looking for this?” she asked, throwing the two detonators at his feet.

“You bitch-”

She grinned, “Criminal.”

He drew his gun and fired towards her, but she rolled and dodged, bullets ricocheting off. Leonard was nearly out of the chair, this was going to work, it-

A bullet rang out and tore through her leg - she cursed her still-healing wounds and pressed forward, ignoring it.

The others didn’t.

“Blondie!” Mick shouted, the concern warming her heart even as she cursed him.

Vigilante turned, his attention forced on them. Two shots rang out, the first missing everything, but the second -

Gypsy gasped and fell back clutching her abdomen, the rift vanishing with her on one side - and Mick and Leonard on this one. Vigilante raised his weapon and Sara threw hers.

His scream as her blade embedded in his shoulder was satisfying, but she couldn’t stop to enjoy it. She lunged forward, grabbing the hilt in his shoulder and tearing upwards and out, cutting through some of the body armor, two guns clattering on the ground as the bandolier split. He swept his arm out, his elbow hitting the new wound and sending her to the ground. The breath knocked out of her, she couldn’t move and Vigilante slammed her head to the ground, spittle hitting the side of her face as he hissed, “You just had to let him die. It wasn’t hard. You just had to let him...I would’ve taken you, too. It would have been easy, you could’ve saved all of them. In exchange for all the wicked, one pure life.”

“Who said I’m pure?” Sara snarled. She threw her head back and Vigilante rolled off of her, reaching at his belt for-

A second detonator.

Her mind raced: had she gotten them all? She wasn’t certain. With a panicked shout towards the camera, “Gypsy!” Sara leapt and crashed on top of Vigilante, fighting him for the detonator, their hands scraping across one another, nails catching skin, brushing the button dangerously.

The sound of a rift opening nearly made her cry in relief. She wrapped her hand around the detonator, blocking the button, and looked up.

“Sara!” Leonard’s voice tore out of him, Mick desperately trying to drag him to the rift.

“Mick, you promised!” Sara screamed. It didn't matter, nothing else mattered, as long as Mick go Leonard out - god, _please_ -

“Mick, don’t-” Leonard started, but Mick grabbed him by the back of the neck and forced him through the rift, a pained and guilty glance the last thing she saw of the big man as the rift closed again. Leonard was gone before she had a chance to say goodbye. Probably best.

Vigilante screamed and kicked out, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Sara rolled away, coughing, staring up at Vigilante and barely caring as he held up the detonator.

“I was going to clean this city up, but you let a murderer go free!”

“Murderer,” she coughed weakly, mockingly. Something pinched in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“He killed the Trickster,” Vigilante said, waving the detonator carelessly. “Not that it was any large loss, but he killed a man and you’ve allowed him to walk free-”

Sara stared up at him, wondering if was always meant to end up here. She wondered if it could have ever gone in a different direction. She wondered if she would have changed a thing, even if she’d known.

She already knew the answer. This is exactly where she needed to be.

“I killed him.”

Vigilante, for the first time, seemed shocked. “What did you say?”

“I said, I killed the Trickster.” Sara got to her feet, clutching her sternum, but refusing to die lying down. “All the murderers are in this room. So blow it.”

He stared at her, his arm hanging limp. “You...you?”

She raised her chin. “Me.”

Vigilante shook his head slowly. “The city must be cleansed.” His thumb rose above the button-

And a rift opened up again.

Sara’s heart dropped, “No!”

But it wasn’t Leonard who stepped out. It wasn’t even Mick.

Pied Piper, Top, and Killer Frost walked through, and hell broke loose.

Pied Piper shouted, the splitting pain in her head making Sara drop to her knees, but made Vigilante drop the detonator. Frost threw out her fingers and it froze, hovering above the ground on a spire of ice.

“You come into our city,” Top said, “giving orders and taking lives like you’re any better than us?” She glared at Vigilante and he started to sway, clutching at the ground for purchase, as if the room was spinning, though nothing was. Frost came over to Sara’s side, guiding her towards the rift.

“Let’s go, hero,” her voice echoed strangely.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Sara muttered.

“Had to make an entrance,” Frost grinned.

“You’re worse than us,” Top hissed, still staring at Vigilante. “You don’t have a code. You don’t have anything.”

“Top!” Piper shouted, waiting by the rift. “Come on!”

Top reached for the gun, “You’ve failed. There’s nothing for you here. You took everything-”

“Top,” Sara said, Frost stopping as Sara paused. “Don’t. Please.”

“No, Sam-” Top sobbed, tears clouding her eyes even as she grabbed the weapon.

“Sam wouldn’t want you to do this,” Sara said. “Leave him.”

Top watched him for a long moment. Then threw the gun away from him and spit on his mask. “Go to hell, criminal.”

She walked towards the others and was first through the rift. Pied Piper was next, Frost helping Sara through.

And the rift closed behind them.

They dropped into the Saints and Sinners, the bar strangely quiet. Frost guided Sara to a booth, setting her down. Gypsy was pale on the ground, and Mick tending to her. Top was sobbing, and Piper was holding her shoulders, talking quietly.

And Leonard was leaning against the wall, his jaw tight in pain, but still standing, and staring directly at Sara. He opened his mouth, starting to lean forward-

In that brief moment, Sara knew that he loved her. She loved him. Together, they would be amazing. Whether it was taking down villains, making kids smile, or quoting movies. It would be amazing.

And the whole city rocked, a muffled explosion echoing out even this far. Sara didn’t have to look out the window to know it was on Euclid Street. She didn’t turn away from Leonard, even as the others began to talk loudly, exclaiming, and Top beginning to laugh hysterically, tears still spilling over her cheeks.

It silenced quickly when the sirens sounded outside the bar, all around them. Surrounding them. And though Sara didn’t look away from Leonard, she felt her own tears beginning to form.

They would have been amazing.

“Gypsy?” Sara asked.

“Yeah?” she whispered, the quiet broken by the demands that they come out with the hands up.

“Got one more left in you?”

“Just the one, I think.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

One last rift opened, this one shaky and small, it wouldn’t last long.  Top and Frost jumped through, Piper following them. The rift began to shimmer and Sara gestured for Mick to grab Leonard. The big guy did, hesitating only a moment as he glanced at Sara. His mouth went tight, and his grip on Leonard relentless.

She managed one quick smile. If this was the price she was going to have to pay, she’d gladly pay it a thousand times over. And to be fair, this is what she’d expected. She was ready.

Sara nodded to Gypsy and turned away, towards the door.

She thought she heard her name as the rift closed, but Sara was already walking out of the empty bar, her hands raised high.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the ending of this crept up a bit faster than I expected. We have one more chapter to go.
> 
> :D

“Jesus, Sara. You should’ve come to me long before this.”

Sara looked at the table, metal clicking with every move she made. “You wouldn’t have believed me.”

Quentin sighed, rubbing his eyes. “No. Probably wouldn’t have. But still.”

Sara shrugged, the orange jumpsuit not doing anything for her complexion. Still, she was better off than she had been - fully healed. But that’s what four weeks in a prison infirmary and the additional security ward would do.

A full month since she’d rescued Leonard. A full month since she’d seen him. A full month without any contact from him at all.

But that’s what she agreed to.

West hadn’t been thrilled when Sara had been the only one to exit the bar. In fact, he hadn’t even cuffed her. Just guided her with a sigh to the back of his squad car, already on his phone and making calls.

Sara had been moved to the prison after a significant delay, both due to her father and the apparent lack of a desire to do so. Sara had been arrested a few times before, and this was the nicest she’d ever been treated.

Still, the system persisted.

“The best they can do is a deal,” Quentin said. “You go in, say you did it, and they give you a lesser sentence.”

“I did do it,” Sara murmured, lifting her eyes to her father.

Quentin’s face was drawn, and it seemed he’d aged five years in the past week alone. Sara reached across the tables, but was drawn up short by the manacles. He closed the gap and the guard in the corner pointedly looked away.

“It’s a good deal.”

“How long?” Sara asked.

He hesitated. “Ten. Less with good behavior.”

Ten years.

She hated herself for feeling a surge of disappointment. She knew she deserved much worse. Ten years for Trickster, fine. But if she had admitted to even a quarter of what she’d done, she’d have fifteen life sentences, easily. She was being selfish, deserving more and wanting less.

Sara nodded once. “Okay.”

Quentin’s eyes shimmered for a moment, then he cleared his throat. “You’ll just need to go in front of the judge and take the deal. Quick. No jury. No trial. You’ll serve the sentence in a minimum security prison. Time in the yard and the library. Maybe even finish college.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“What about the program?” she asked. If she only had one day left, she needed to make sure everything else was in place.

Quentin scoffed, shaking his head, “Sara, if you help these people-”

“They saved my life. They didn’t have to.”

“No, you didn’t have to!” He stood, letting go of her hands. “Jesus, if you’d just let him-”

“Die?” Sara cut in quietly.

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “Sara…”

“He saved my life.  _ They  _ saved my life. They deserve better.”

“You deserved better!” Quentin shouted, slamming his hands on the table. Sara remained silent, staring up at him until he sighed.

“Dad, please. Did you do it?”

“Yeah, I did it. Against my better judgment. But yeah.” He held out his finger, “But I didn’t do it for them.”

“I know.”

“Goes up for review next week, but I’ve got the votes behind me and this…” he gestured to her, “pushed it even further in my favor.”

“So it’ll happen?”

“Yeah. It’ll happen.”

“Thank you,” Sara whispered.

“Time’s up,” the guard said, glancing at the clock. Technically, their time should have been up five minutes ago.

Quentin walked past her toward the door, stopping to press a kiss on her head. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Sara repeated, staring straight ahead. Her hands were clenched in fists on the table. The door opened behind her and she couldn’t help herself.

“Dad?” she called, turning in her seat.

Quentin turned, his eyes glimmering once again. “Yeah, baby?”

“You’ll be there tomorrow, right?”

He smiled, his face at odds. “Right behind you, all the way.”

Sara forced a smile, and she knew it wasn’t very convincing, but Quentin nodded and closed the door.

The guard gave her a moment to compose herself before stepping forward. “Let’s go, Lance.”

Sara nodded and was led back to her cell once again. She walked the cement halls, chains around her ankles and wrists, callouses from the metal already forming. Falling into line, Sara dropped her eyes and followed the guard to the cell, used to the routine already. It helped to know what was to come. But she wasn’t overly worried.

She had the next ten years to perfect it.

* * *

The courtroom was relatively full, though Sara could only name a few. Her father in the row behind her. Detective West, glaring at a few journalists. Allen, the CSI, came in and joined him. Rip and Kendra behind her father. Maricruz near the back. Diane behind the prosecution. And next to Sara sat Cecile.

“Your father explained it?” Cecile said quietly as the courtroom murmured.

Sara nodded. “Say I’m guilty. Take the deal.”

“It’s a good deal,” Cecile said. “They were kind.”

“Yeah.” She stared at the table, her hands wringing together.

Cecile squeezed her shoulder. “You’re young yet. This isn’t the end for you.”

No, it wasn’t the end for her. Not for Sara Lance. She’d be out in ten years, get a decent job. Her father had connections. She could eke out a fine living.

But ten years was a long time. Anything else she could have been - anyone else she could have been with - that was done. She wouldn’t ask for that. Not when she deserved this. Even though her stomach dropped when the judge came in, Sara stood, and a sense of rightness took its place. She wanted to atone for killing. And she’d done it, by saving dozens of lives in exchange for her own.

Sara took a deep breath, and for the first time in years, since long before she picked up her blade among the League, the air came easily. There was no hitch. No vise around her lungs. The weight, the guilt she’d been carrying for years was gone, left in the courtroom chair, where she was finally able to come clean.

So her hands didn’t shake as the judge allowed the rest of them to sit and addressed her. Her eyes remained steady as the charges were read.

And when the judge turned to her and asked, “How do you plead?”

She answered, without a quaver, “Guil-”

The door slammed open behind them, cutting her off and drawing everyone’s eyes to the back.

And Leonard  _ freaking  _ Snart walked in. Dressed to the nines in his complete ensemble - the ridiculous parka, the goggles hanging around his neck, only the gun was missing. He strolled into the courtroom, smirk solidly in place. Sara was struck by how similar he looked to the first time they’d met, his blue eyes scanning the room, his arrogance, his unfair good looks, his confidence -

His ability to piss her off.

Sara, already on her feet, took half a step before Cecile stopped her. “Sara, wait-”

Her father stood as well, “What the hell-”

“-do you think you’re doing, Snart?” West said, getting into the aisle, his hand hovering over his weapon, though he didn’t draw it. “You think you’re going to waltz in here and-”

“Relax, Detective,” Leonard said, his hands held away from his sides, and just a DVD in one palm. “If I were arranging a breakout, it’d be far more subtle.”

The judge arched a dark eyebrow, almost completely unfazed, “Care to explain why you’re interrupting my courtroom, then, Mr. Cold?” She waved her hand and the bailiff began to move towards him, reaching for his cuffs.

He inclined his head, “Please, Your Honor. Captain is fine.”

“Leonard,” Sara hissed, ignoring Cecile’s hand and taking a step forward.

His eyes darted towards her, the smile warming slightly as he threw her a wink. Every bit of her that had hardened and calcified in the past month, cracked in the face of that smile. Every hope that she’d locked away when she thought her future was over, they came spilling back and nearly overwhelmed her. She couldn’t smile in the face of his smirk, everything swallowing her - her fear, her anger, her love-

“Mr. Snart,” the judge said, drawing his attention. “I will only ask you once more. Why are you here?”

“Because I have something that’s relevant to the case,” Leonard said, ignoring the bailiff, ignoring the press, and stepping through the small barrier. “Permission to approach the bench?” he asked.

A faint smile flickered across the judge’s face. “Glad to see you picked up something all your times here. Permission granted.”

“Your Honor,” the bailiff said, frowning.

“Oh, hush.” The judge leaned forward as Leonard approached, placing the DVD in front of her. “What’s this?”

“CCTV footage,” he answered.

“Of?”

“The warehouse district. The night of Trickster’s death.” Leonard took a step back, crossing his arms. “You’ll notice I appear on there several times, just before and after the time of his death. Ms. Lance never appears at all.”

The judge tapped her fingers on the DVD case. “Mr. Snart, are you implying-”

“I’m not implying anything, Your Honor. I’m confessing.”

Sara opened her mouth, knowing where he was going and her voice betraying her in its silence as Leonard grinned.

“I killed the Trickster.”

Sara went cold. “No!” she shouted over the murmurs in the courtroom. “He didn’t! I did. He’s lying.”

“Damn right he’s lying.” Mick came in through the still swinging door and idly Sara noticed Detective West throw up his hands in annoyance and step out of the aisle. “‘Cause I killed the bastard.”

“Is anyone doing their damn job?” Quentin shouted.

The courtroom became a circus, shouts from the audience, from the press, from Rip, Kendra, and Cecile, from the attorneys, even the bailiff seemed at a loss.

The judge was openly smiling now. “And your evidence, Mr. Rory?”

Mick threw down a blade that Sara knew had been hidden in her apartment. It was the one she’d killed the Trickster with. In fact, it had been the one from the bathroom, the same one Leonard-

She turned to Cecile, “This is a disaster, Snart-”

And the door opened again.

Members of the press came piling in behind Killer Frost, Gypsy, Pied Piper, and Top. All the criminals, surrendering their freedom to confess to a crime she’d committed. In their hands, Sara saw Trickster’s bowtie, her League robe, the boots she’d worn that were apparently Top’s size, and printouts of the information she’d gotten on Trickster’s imports at the docks. Each of them began to shout over the other-

“Trickster had it coming.”

“Hated that guy for years-”

“-got my boyfriend killed.”

“...reminded him why it’s ‘Killer’ Frost.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh at their audacity or cry at their loyalty.

Not a single one of them tried to run as cops converged on the room, cuffing everyone who’d confessed with their hands in front of them and, with a lack of any other options, pulled them to the front.

Sara couldn’t tear her eyes away from Leonard, who turned to her with an unapologetic smile. How could he just give up his freedom, especially when it was for something Sara had truly done? She was guilty and they were all giving everything up to save her.

The judge slammed the gavel on the podium, her voice amused as she called out, “Court will adjourn until Monday as we sort out this...disaster.”

As Sara was led towards the others, she fell into line next to Leonard, the long line of criminals and general chaos of the courtroom working in her favor.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, unable to help leaning towards him. Four weeks had been a long time. He seemed to have healed, just a few new scars to speak of his capture. “You know that I-”

“It’s called reasonable doubt, Lance,” he explained, his smile unbothered by her anger and his arrest. “Doesn’t matter what I know, just matters what they can prove.”

“Leonard, please,” she said. “I chose to do this. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t owe me anything.”

The smile faded and his voice caught slightly, raw as the words came out quietly. “I owe you everything.”

“No,” she said, that confidence she’d had fading in the face of Leonard and her friends taking the fall. “If it weren’t for me-”

“If it weren’t for you,” he interrupted fiercely, “I’d be nothing more than a common criminal. None of us would be.”

“But if I hadn’t-”

His hands found hers despite the cuffs, squeezing gently. The noise in the courtroom faded as he leaned towards her, the words meant for her alone. “If I weren’t such a damn idiot, I wouldn’t have waited to tell you that I love you. Because I do, and have since the first, Sara-Sara.” He pressed a quick kiss to her temple, lingering just a moment. “And for the chance to be with you, I’d do this all over again, cuffs and all.”

He dropped her hands as the cops began to move them towards the side door, Sara trailing behind the line of grinning and unrepentant criminals, who cheerfully said hello and waved to her as if they hadn’t just given up everything.

And as Leonard met her eyes over his shoulder, Sara believed that maybe, she’d atoned enough. Maybe she’d earned a place in the world through her actions.

She smiled, and linked her hands with his, ignoring the cop behind her.

And she knew exactly where her place was.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per usual, I own nothing but the way this is all put together. This was all inspired by a text post from Tumblr/Pinterest and got way out of control.
> 
> Aaaaaanndddd, this is the end.  
> Thank you and goodnight. <3

Sara stood off to the side of the stage, straightening her notecards again with sweaty palms. She made to wipe her hands on her thighs, but stopped herself before she ruined the blue silk. Raising her eyes, she stared out among the finely dressed crowd, waiters in white and black walking between them, pouring champagne and with trays of hors d'oeuvres. The quiet murmur of polite and polished conversation didn’t diminish the sounds of a live band off in the corner.

S.T.A.R. Labs was dressed for the occasion, as well. Twinkling fairy lights hung from the upper level out over the lobby, the glass walls reflecting the glow and shimmer of the attendees. Small clusters of white and gold balloons decorated the walls and entryway. It was all stunning.

“You ready?”

Sara looked up at Harrison Wells of S.T.A.R. Labs, a man she’d never thought she’d meet, let along be working alongside. She smiled faintly. “No.”

His expression was comforting, familiar to her in his arrogance while still maintaining that reassurance. “Just do what I do, look out at the crowd-”

“And imagine them all in their underwear?” she finished.

He glanced at her. “No. That’s disgusting. Imagine you’re the smartest person in the room. Which I always am. Whatever you’re saying is far more important than anything they’ve got in their heads.”

“Maybe for you,” she muttered, glancing out at the crowd. “I know people out there don’t agree with me.”

“Who cares?” Harrison said. “You know you’re right. The ones you care about know you’re right. What else do you need?”

Sara didn’t answer, her fingers still messing with the cards in front of her.

Harrison touched her shoulder. “If I didn’t believe in this, I wouldn’t be here. S.T.A.R. Labs wouldn’t be here. And since we’ve already established I’m the smartest one in this room, what more do you need to know?”

A woman approached, brunette hair streaked with a shock of icy white. She smiled at Sara, a wink passing between them. Then her eyes turned up to Harrison. “Ready?”

He grinned down at her, the height difference almost hilarious. “Am I never not ready, Snow?”

“You’re not ready in the morning, you’re not ready to eat, you’re never ready to leave work, and don’t get me started on date night-”

Harrison covered her mouth with his hand. “Play nice.”

Caitlin Snow smiled up at him, the laughter crinkling her eyes as she stared up at him. Sara watched Harrison’s expression soften as he looked down at her. Sara hid her smile and dropped her gaze, not wanting to intrude. Eventually, Harrison cleared his throat and straightened his suit.

“Right. Into the fray.” He stepped out towards the stage, his natural charisma drawing every eye to him as he welcomed everyone. Sara and Caitlin stood off to the side as Harrison got the crowd eating out the palm of his hand. Sara glanced at the woman next to her.

“Never thought I’d see you going soft, Frost.”

“Never thought I’d see you going scared, hero,” Caitlin retorted, her voice dropping to a familiar monotone for a moment before she grinned.

Sara smirked. “We still on for drinks on Tuesday?”

“You know it.” Her eyes were still on Harrison.

“Still worth all this?” Sara asked.

Caitlin glanced at the simple bracelet around her wrist, the blinking red light obscured by the skin and the lights. Her gaze returned to Harrison as if he was magnetic. “It’s worth everything.” With a quick movement, Caitlin hugged her tightly. “Thank you,” she said. She let go and stepped out to Harrison as he started wrapping up his speech.

Sara watched the two of them on the stage, Harrison immediately turning towards her with a smile. They were right.

“...is the founder, and my personal friend and coworker, Sara Lance,” Harrison said, extending his hand towards her.

Sara stepped out to a politely applauding crowd. Familiar faces peppered the group: Kendra’s wide smile, Rip’s constantly annoyed face, Cecile standing next to Detective West, but they were outweighed with newer acquaintances. Sara swallowed, dropping her eyes to the notecards, the words swimming slightly in her panic.

There was the faintest clearing of a throat and Sara looked up instinctively, her eyes locking with a pale blue among the crowd. Leonard raised his brow at her and a slight nod. Sara lowered the notecards and ignored her carefully prepared speech.

“My name is Sara Lance. And I save criminals.”

 

_ Sara waited outside of Iron Heights, glancing at her watch more than once. _

_ “Relax,” Quentin said. “Everything went through.” _

_ “He should’ve been out earlier, all of them should have been out-” Sara cut herself off as the gates began to beep loudly as they were drawn back. Leonard, Piper, Top, Mick, Gypsy, and Frost came out of the prison in a group, looking more than a little confused and each playing with a thin tracking bracelet on their wrist. Leonard saw her first, and took the lead towards them. _

_ It had been six weeks since their disaster of a trial. With the other confessions, Sara had been proclaimed not guilty, because it could not proven beyond a reasonable doubt. The rest of them were also innocent in Trickster’s murder. However, the others had additional crimes that they didn’t have an alibi for, and were each sentenced to a various number of years in Iron Heights. _

_ It had taken longer than Sara had wanted to get everything up and moving, but finally the paperwork was over. Now all she had to do was to make it work. _

_ “Blondie?” Mick called out, his arms outstretched in confusion. “What are you doing here?” _

_ Leonard stopped in front of her, his brow arched. “What did you do, Lance?” _

_ She stared up at him, the brief visits they’d had, separated by thick plexiglass, not nearly as satisfying. He looked tired, but whole and healthy. His eyes were dancing as he stared down at her, and as she leaned forward- _

_ “Ahem,” Quentin cleared his throat, stepping up.  _

_ Sara flushed, “This is my dad, Officer Quentin Lance.” _

_ Though the majority of the group hesitated, Leonard immediately held out his hand to her father. “Nice to meet you, Officer Lance.” _

_ Quentin made a noncommittal noise, but shook his head with a laugh as they broke apart. “Hate to admit it, but it’s nice to meet you, too, Snart. I can’t thank you all enough for what you did for Sara.” He turned to the rest of them. “What all of you did.” _

_ The rest of them softened slightly, faint smiles shared between them. _

_ “You can start by keeping us out there,” Top said, gesturing over her shoulder to Iron Heights. _

_ “Actually,” Sara said, “that’s why we’re here.” She glanced at her watch. “And we’re late, so we’d better get going.” _

_ She turned to the van they’d procured, the name on the side raising a few brows. They all filed in, curiosity and a lack of options forcing their hands, and Sara felt Leonard come up behind her, leaning down to murmur in her ear. _

_ “What have you been up to, Sara-Sara?” _

_ “You’ll see.” _

 

“I save them, because some of them deserve it. Most of them haven’t had the help they need. The world attacked them, and though they didn’t do what was right, they didn’t have help. They were forced into a world with powers, with no training and no guidance.”

 

_ They pulled up outside S.T.A.R. Labs, a group of people already waiting outside. Harrison Wells’s arms were crossed as they got out, and Sara saw how Piper hung back. _

_ “I don’t believe this is the best-” he began quietly. _

_ Sara spoke over him, “Hey, Harrison.” _

_ “Lance. I see you succeeded,” Harrison said, looking over each of them. From behind Harrison’s back, Sara saw the now familiar figure of Cisco Ramon grinning at her. Detective West was there as well, looking oddly comfortable among the group. _

_ “Told you I would,” she retorted. “Are we ready to start?” _

_ “As we’ll ever be.” _

_ They trooped inside, Quentin bringing up the rear as Harrison led them into the infamous building. They walked into a room with monitors and high tech equipment, a medical bay off to one side, and glass cases along the wall. Everything glowed with a faint blue light that may have been purely aesthetic, but Sara hadn’t been able to figure it out yet. _

_ Frost hung back and Sara slid up to her, Leonard’s eyes following both of them off to the side. The rest of the group’s murmurs and attempt to find seating covered their quiet conversation. _

_ “You sure about this?” Sara asked. _

_ Frost nodded, staring straight ahead. “Yes. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.” _

_ Harrison cleared his throat, “Lance?” _

_ Sara joined him at the front of the room. “How would you all like to not go back to prison?” _

_ “Love it,” Mick said immediately. “What’s the catch?” _

_ “You’ll have jobs,” Cisco said. _

_ “Hate it,” was Mick’s response. _

_ “Just listen,” Sara said. “I’ve been developing a program for a while now, and everything’s finally been approved. It’s a parole program for criminals with meta abilities or tech. You’ll still have to check in with your parole officer, you’ll still have rules, but you’ll be out and about, serving your sentence here.” _

_ “Here?” Top questioned. “S.T.A.R. Labs?” _

_ “At the beginning,” West answered. “Then, you’ll each head a different assignment based on your..unique skills. Some will stay here, others go to hospitals, research centers, security, the CCPD-” _

_ “You want us to work with you?” Gypsy questioned.  _

_ “We need you to work with us,” West corrected. “You know more about metas than we do, you can help us find them, track them.” _

_ “Imprison them?” Piper asked, the tension rising slightly with his question. _

_ “Help them,” Harrison said. “Most metas get their powers and have no idea how to control them. No guidance. No information. We want to help them before they turn to crime, give them a chance.” _

_ “And what do you know about metas?” Top asked. _

_ Frost stepped up, walking through the crowd and towards Harrison Wells. “They know a lot.” With that, she closed her eyes and the white hair faded, the skin deepened in color, and when her eyes opened, they’d lost their unnatural blue glow. And Dr. Caitlin Snow, well known in Central City, took her place next to him, facing the rest of them.  _

_ “Well, shit,” Mick said. _

_ “I work here,” Caitlin said. “I lost control of my powers, of Killer Frost, and fell into crime, but with Harrison and Cisco, I’ve learned to control what I am. I can use that information to help others.” _

_ “And the bracelets?” Gypsy asked. _

_ “Part of the deal,” Sara said. “No prison time, but they get to keep tabs on you. Detective West has agreed to be the parole officer for this particular group.” _

_ West nodded, “And I’m here often. So check-ins should be easy.” _

_ “Why did you do this?” Gypsy asked, turning to Sara. “All of this, just for us?” _

_ Sara looked around at each of them, wondering if they’d ever realize how important they were to her. “Because you did it for me.” _

 

“They were criminals. True. But for some of them, there are better ways to pay for their crimes than prison. And when given a choice, they are willing. When I asked for help, they were there. When I didn’t ask for help, they were there, too.”

 

_ S _ _ ara walked around the room, listening as the group discussed various methods of using their powers. She couldn’t keep the smile off of her face as they all exceeded her expectations and wildest dreams. The sheer amount of innovation and creativity in this room could jump start the next scientific age of discovery. Harrison’s expression as he listened to a conversation between Snow and Piper was almost worth the hours of arguing she’d gone through just to get this singular meeting. _

_ It had been an uphill battle, but she could see the peak. _

_ Glancing around, Sara saw her father and Detective West speaking with Gypsy. Caitlin had moved over to talk intensely with Mick and Top. Cisco and Harrison had taken her spot with Piper. _

_ She wandered into the hallway, a familiar figure turning the corner down the hall. Sara followed him. _

_ As soon as she turned the corner, Leonard was there, his arms wrapping around her tightly. Fingers buried into her hair and lips pressing against her temple. Sara wound her arms around his middle, inhaling deeply. She was right, the cologne wasn’t nearly as good when he wasn’t on him. _

_ They had spoken nearly every day while he was in prison, but neither of them had been too eager to discuss anything of substance while on either sides of glass. Now however, there were probably a thousand things they should be speaking about. His future, what he did for her, what she did for him, how they both were, but- _

_ “I love you,” she said into his sweater. _

_ “I love you, Sara. I’m sorry for being an ass that day, I should’ve-” _

_ She laughed quietly, “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter anymore. None of that matters anymore. You’re here and you’re okay, and none of that matters. Leonard-” _

_ He interrupted her in the best possible way. Fire burst along Sara’s lips as Leonard stole what remained of her breath, nearly three months without him had left her anxious and wanting. She had been mildly concerned that she had been building it up in her mind, that the real thing was going to be a disappointment. _

_ It was not. _

_ When he finally broke free, he didn’t go far, his hand still tangled in her hair. The other moved up to trace along her cheek, his eyes darting across every inch of her face, memorizing, planning, plotting, whatever he did. _

_ “Where’s my place in all this?” he asked quietly. “Mick’s got the hospital, Gypsy’s with the cops. Frost - Snow?” he asked,and Sara merely shrugged with a grin. “She and Piper have the brains. Top was talking about counselors. What’s my role here?” _

_ “You could take anywhere,” she said. “You can add to any of them, if you wanted.” _

_ His gaze focused on her eyes, his brow arching slightly. “You have a thought, though.” _

_ He wasn’t wrong. “You have a way with people. Words. More than me. I could use your help with the managing.” _

_ “You know how I feel about jobs.” _

_ “I know.” That had been her greatest worry. She wasn’t trying to change him, she truly wasn’t. But this was the only way she could think of that didn’t involve them going on the run for the rest of their lives. _

_ “We’d be working here?” he asked, his eyes leaving hers for the first time since he hugged her to dart around the clean and beautiful hallways of S.T.A.R. Labs. _

_ “My office is upstairs. Wells said this would be a good place, and they had the room.” She waited a moment, seeing him considering it. “There’s an empty office right next door.” _

_ “Should a villain prove...uncooperative-” _

_ “Oh, you and I get first shot at taking him down,” Sara interrupted. “You think I wanted to give up beating up jerks? No thank-” _

_ For the second time, she was interrupted by Leonard’s lips. This time, she could feel the smile pass from his mouth to hers as they broke apart. _

_ He was grinning now. “I think you’ve created the only job I’d ever enjoy, Sara-Sara.” He kissed her again, slowly and ever so sweetly. When this one ended, Sara found herself short of breath, and had to take a moment before she could focus on anything other than the thundering of her heart in her ears. _

_ “Mick said he showed you my place,” Leonard said quietly. His hand dropped to her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “What’d you think?” _

_ A strange question. “It was very you.” _

_ “I’ve got some extra room. And it’s closer to S.T.A.R. Labs than your place.” The suggestion was there, hesitant behind his facts. _

_ “You asking me to move in with you, Snart?” she teased, half grinning. _

_ At her expression, his tension vanished. An answering smirk appeared. “Yeah, Lance. I am.” _

_ “You’ve got a door that works?” _

_ “Several.” _

_ “Perfect. I’m in.” _

_ He chuckled faintly, his hand tightening around hers. “I’ve got several places to have a conversation, too.” _

_ “Well, what’s the point of being the boss if I can’t leave early?” she said. _

_ “Let’s go, Sara-Sara.” _

 

“Not all criminals are created equal. There are those who wish to atone for what they’ve done. And for them, we’ve created the program ‘Anything but Common.’ These men and women will train to control their powers, work with the CCPD and S.T.A.R. Labs to help identify and mentor other metahumans or those with metahuman items. They will participate in outreach programs at prisons, schools, and hospitals. They serve a majority of their sentence out of prison walls as productive members of society and make out world a better place.”

Maricruz and Diane were near the back, nodding along with her words, but Sara saw some of the faces sneer. Her voice dropped quietly, unsure now, for the first time since speaking. “It’s not easy. Some of them will fall short and serve the traditional sentence. Those who don’t, still face a life of ridicule and suspicion, despite their best efforts. You may ask how I know that.”

 

_ The afternoon sunlight was fading when Sara woke, stretching on dark blue sheets. She ached, but all in a beautiful way. She could help neither the smile nor the flush that came to her cheeks as she thought about the past few hours. Leonard’s mand hands on her skin, whispers lost amid the sheets, faint laughter that quickly muffled beneath lips. _

_ The first time with Leonard had been amazing, fun, all of the best things. This had been slower and more vulnerable. The two of them completely bared to one another now, no secrets. No running. No hiding. Not anymore. _

_ Alone in the bed, it took her a moment to recognize the sound from outside. A faint, delicate tune from the piano. Something she recognized from movies, but she couldn’t place it. Pulling on Leonard’s sweater, she padded outside the bedroom and into the living room. _

_ Leonard sat at the piano, playing a quiet tune. He’d pulled on a pair of sweatpants, looking up at her as she came into the room. He smiled, a soft expression on his face, his fingers continuing to play as she crossed the room and sat beside him at the piano. _

_ She leaned on his shoulder, watching his hands move across the keys confidently. _

_ “Not everyone is going to like this,” he said quietly, never pausing. _

_ He wasn’t specific. The program. The criminals. Their relationship. Any and all of it. _

_ “No.” _

_ “You ready for that?” _

_ You ready for them to see you with me? You ready to have them see you as a criminal? You ready to live in the spotlight? She should have said yes, immediately. Instead, she said, “Will you be there?” _

_ “As long as you’ll have me.” He looked over at her, his hands never faltering. _

_ “Then I’m ready.” _

_ “Don’t deserve you, Sara-Sara,” he murmured. Him. Central City. The criminals. The people. _

_ “Nobody gets what they deserve, right?” _

_ “Right.” He turned to the keys again, “Are you done atoning?” _

_ Valid question. “I think so.” _

_ “I’ll take it.” _

_ She sat quietly until he finished the song, her eyes half-lidded as she listened, the music filling the room, dancing through the air in their apartment. As the last note faded, she pressed her lips into his shoulder. “I love you." _

_ He turned on the bench and kissed her thoroughly, stealing her breath and her worries and her anxieties, replacing them with a soothing warmth and a promise of what was to come. “I love you, Sara-Sara,” he whispered, neither of them wanting to break the quiet sanctum of their home. _

_ Their home. _

_ She could take on anyone if she came home to this. _

 

She toyed with the bracelet around her wrist. Her eyes downcast. “It’s because I’m one of them. I have been serving my sentence by helping Central City. And I hope, you can look beyond my past to the future I want to create. With your help, we can change the lives of so many. Because we are not just criminals.”

The silence from the audience was painful and she was terrified to look up. For a long, heavy moment, Sara held her breath, no sound of support from the multitudes who’d gathered. She stared at the ground, panic that this would fail before it truly began building up in her, and she swallowed back the tears that had begun to form. She couldn’t fail them. Not here. Not after everything.

A single set of footsteps echoed off the tile floor and Sara looked up, not entirely surprised to see Leonard Snart walking towards the stage. He wove through the silent masses, smiling at the security company he’d consulted for more than once, not stopping until he reached the stairs, walked up them, and took a spot standing next to Sara, looking out over the crowd. With a very subtle gesture, he adjusted his jacket sleeve, revealing an identical bracelet to hers.

Rosalind Dillon excused herself audibly from the counselors of the group she’d spearheaded, whose program focused on self-esteem, relationships, and depression issues. She put her hands on her hips, her bracelet in full view, complemented by the sparkling black cocktail dress she wore.

Dr. Hartley Rathaway separated himself from the group of doctors he’d been engaged in conversation with, climbing up the opposite side of the stage to stand on Sara’s other side. Sara knew the group he’d been speaking with was conducting a trial on a new type of hearing aid for deaf children, based on his own designs. He crossed his arms silently, the bracelet blinking on his left wrist.

From amid a group of CCPD officers, Cynthia Mordeth moved through, her expertise at tracking and her deep knowledge of metahumans making her ideal to work with CCPD’s metahuman taskforce. Sara heard she already had a reputation of a badass.

Mick Rory moved away from the Head of Pediatrics of Central City General Hospital, taking his place behind Leonard with a raised chin. His bracelet was widely displayed, as he refused to dress up beyond a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled back.

Sara didn’t look, but she heard the gentle click of heels from behind her and knew that Caitlin Snow was just to her left, between her and Hartley. A faint gasp from the crowd and the drop in temperature revealed that Dr. Snow had altered her appearance slightly, revealing Killer Frost.

It took Sara a moment to remember how to take a breath, and Leonard placed his hand on the small of her back in encouragement. Sara was suddenly able to breathe past the lump in her throat and spoke, because she had to. Because these were her friends.

Because she knew she was right.

“We want your help and your support. We want to work with you, openly. But,” she smiled, looking around at the group that had gathered, “even if we don’t have you behind us, we’re here to stay. And I think we’ve shown that we’ll keep working towards what’s right, regardless of public opinion. We were all criminals, yes. But now we’re striving to be more. Because that’s what this city needs. That’s what your children need. And we can do it. We can go above and beyond what you think, what you believe, what you hope for. Because though we may have been criminals, we are anything but common.”

 

_ Sara glanced around the table, Caitlin and Harrison tucked into the corner, their good-natured argument about vigilantes pulling in Rosalind and West’s attention. Mick and Quentin were arguing about the efficacy of the prison system and ways it had failed, while Cynthia elaborated on differences from her world. Hartley and Cisco had commandeered all of the bar’s napkins to design a new communication system for cops. Leonard’s arm was around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. As Sara looked over her haphazard new family, she wondered what she’d done to deserve them. It didn’t feel like enough. _

_ But Caitlin winked at her and Hartley put a new drink down for her, and Mick mentioned her skills to her dad, who smiled and shook his head with a grin. Rosalind waved at a young woman at the bar with a smile and Cynthia told a story about her father, and Cisco was impressed and Harrison mentioned something about being honored to work with them- _

_ And Leonard kissed her temple and stole a sip of her drink. _

_ Maybe she didn’t deserve them. Maybe they didn’t deserve her. Maybe none of them deserved a second chance, but here they were. She was going to make the best of it. Still, she silently wished that this would all turn out. That they would all succeed. That this would save just one other person. She wished, knowing that it would take hard work, but wished all the same. _

_ After all, she’d seen what wishes could do. _


End file.
